


Egypterra

by danke_rose



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, F/M, Mentions of past abuse, No Sex, Past Kidnapping, Rehabilitation, Starvation, Were-Creatures, beheading of evil creatures, children enslaved, dubious religious practices in an invented religion that is not explicitly explained, kurtty - Freeform, mutants enslaved, suggestion of past non-con/dub-con situations but not explicitly discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danke_rose/pseuds/danke_rose
Summary: Based on Secret Wars Journal's Egyptia AU.  Shadowcat leads a group of runaway mutant slaves who periodically rescue other mutants.  She discovers Nightcrawler, who has been treated badly and left to die.  They are also faced with a decision of whether to stay in the city or leave and try to find freedom.  Unfortunately, travel at night is nearly impossible because the creatures that come out when the moon rises will kill them.
Relationships: Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner, Piotr Rasputin/Neena Thurman
Comments: 35
Kudos: 12





	1. Refuse (trash)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS
> 
> This is not the more typical fluffy, happy stuff I usually write more of. Based on the Secret Wars Journal setting in Egyptia on Earth 54910, this takes place on the adjacent Earth 54909, because writing Nightcrawler as a feral half-animal just wasn't working for me. A few other things have changed too. This is based on a dark story, and this story itself is pretty grim, especially at the beginning. Mutants are slaves, they're mistreated, and Nightcrawler is almost dead when Shadowcat finds him. 
> 
> There are mentions of past abuse but nothing is discussed explicitly, except at the very beginning. There are suggestions of previous non-con or dub-con situations, kidnapping, and other horrible things. If you aren't sure, then you might want to skip this story.
> 
> There is a lot more violence in this than I usually write, and a bunch of people and creatures get killed. This is described, not in extreme detail, but it's pretty darn clear what's happening. 
> 
> If ANY of this is upsetting or bothers you, PLEASE don't read this. I will be posting another version soon which will have more extensive editing of these scenes, because my children want to read this, and that one may possibly be more to your tastes. 
> 
> This isn't meant to be even remotely realistic. It isn't meant to be an accurate portrayal of anyone recovering from trauma or abuse of any kind, nor is it meant to be an accurate portrayal of anyone's experiences of slavery.
> 
> *edited 3/25 to fix a mis-posted chapter

Darkness. Metal bars. Performing for his masters. Sharp noises. Pain. More tricks, harder, more complicated, not good enough. Hunger. Fear. Angry voices, disappointed, bored. A cage. A whip. A stick.

All he knew.

All he had ever known, because his dreams were only dreams after all. Nothing pleasant could be real. Nothing beautiful was meant for him. In a land where only the wealthiest humans had privilege, he was worth less than the least of them. He was a mutant.

  
  


The cage opened on rusty hinges, and he squinted in the harsh light as he was dumped at the feet of yet another new master. The woman's feet were wrapped in brightly colored cloth strips, a sign of wealth and power. So much shouting. A whip cracked against the raw skin of his back and he jerked away and yelped, too weak to stand or even lift his head, even as they screamed at him to get up. When had he eaten last? He'd been curled inside the cramped cage too long. He was too hungry and weak to teleport away. The new master did not care why he didn't stand for her. Her purchase was useless to her now, too long starved, and she kicked him. She shouted at her servants and pain flared along his spine. Rough hands grasped his tail and the back of his neck as they dragged him from the bright room into the alley.

He hardly cared what they did to him. Let them kill him. Surely death and the afterlife would be better than this hell he existed in now.

  
  


He smelled refuse bins, rot and filth in a damp alley, the sun going down and casting long shadows. He was tossed against a wall and lay like crumpled paper until a door slammed and silence was his fleeting companion.

New sounds reached him after seconds of disorientation. Baying of animals, banging of doors, hissing of terrified voices. It wouldn't be long. The sun would set and his suffering would end. The things that walked the night would find him. No one went out at night and came back alive.

He didn't know the difference between waking and sleeping, and when he heard the gasping inhale of breath and voices mumbling what might be words, he thought he was dreaming. He forced one eye open, still curious even in the face of death. Why not look into the eyes of those who would kill him?

There was a person crouched in front of him, a woman with dark hair pulled back from her face in a single braid he could see when she turned and spoke to a companion. He saw her mouth move, heard the sounds from her lips, but his exhausted, hungry, battered brain barely registered that the sounds were words.

She looked over her shoulder again, and spoke to her companion again. Perhaps they would kill him. Eat him to feed their starving family. Everyone was starving, and he knew he looked more like beast than man. Hungry people might convince themselves he was food. Not that there was much left on his body to eat.

The woman reached out to her companion and took something. He couldn't see the other person from his position against the wall, huddled between crates and piles of trash. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength not to cry when she gutted him. He waited, but no pain came. He opened both eyes, blurred by fear.

There was something in her hands, what was it? Bread. Fruit. He stared, uncomprehending, and she spoke again. Then she set them on the ground in front of him, pointed to the food and to him.

This was for him?

No. It must be a trick. No one gave food without payment. Slowly she backed away and stood up, and though she was no longer looking at him or speaking to him, he strained to hear her voice and follow her brisk movements as she spoke to her companion. They walked away, the woman sparing one last glance of pity for him.

He watched warily, curiously, dragging himself from the wall to peer around the stinking pile of trash, expecting at any moment for the trap to spring. She was with more than one person, but none of them turned back. He looked at the food again, grabbed it, and ate it as fast as he could, choking it down.

  
  


“What is it?” Colossus asked. Shadowcat knelt in front of the creature, unsure whether or not she was seeing a living being at all. It looked dead, unmoving and obviously recently beaten. She shook her head.

“I don't know,” she said, and it opened its eyes. Yellow, a faint glow in the gathering twilight. It was hard to see the creature in the dark shadows, its fur seemed to camouflage it into the dark. Her eyes followed the dark outline of an arm, a leg. This was no creature, it was a man. A mutant man, starving by the look of the ribs that poked out of his side. She had to help him.

“Can you speak?” Shadowcat said, but he only stared at her with fear in his sunken eyes and cheeks. He was the kind of extreme mutant case that wound up as entertainment for the masses, or the rich, in private. How was he here, in a trash alley waiting for death? Had he been used up in their eyes? Anger flared in her chest, and she blinked back useless tears. They did no one any good.

“Give me some of the food,” she said, holding her hand out to Colossus.

“Shadowcat, we have so little—” he began.

“And he has none at all.” She held out her hand again. “Look at him, Colossus. Have you no compassion left?”

“I see him, and I see that he is on the verge of death, yet you wish to waste our food—”

“It is not a waste if it helps him suffer less. Give me some.”

Colossus reached into his rucksack and pulled out a hunk of crusty bread and a bruised peach. Shadowcat took both and held them out to the man. In the waning light, she began to see that he was, under the dirt and dried blood and rags, the color of a midnight sky. Beautiful, really. He didn't move to take the food from her, so she set it in front of him.

“This is for you,” she said, and his eyes flicked from the food to her face and back, but he said nothing and did not reach for it. She pointed to the food, and to him. “It is for you. A gift,” she said. Still he did not move.

She backed away slowly and stood to address Colossus. “We will finish scavenging and come back before we leave. If he is still here, we will try one more time to help him. If he will not come, we will have to leave him. We cannot risk being out after dark, and it is getting dark even now.”

  
  


His belly was far from full, but it now held the most food he'd eaten in days. It seemed to go to his head in strange ways. He uncurled a little more, sorry that with clarity came pain. He wished he could remember what the people had said. He wished they would come back so he could speak to them, and see the kind woman again. They were probably long gone by now, home safe, wherever that was. It was getting dark, a dangerous time to be out, even for one such as him. He pushed upright, fighting the nausea and dizziness the motion caused, but he could not manage it for long. He buckled, his arms unable to support him.

He was still hunched over, cheek to the ground, when he heard footsteps. Fear told him to bolt, to hide, to skitter back into a corner, but he was far too weak to do anything quickly.

“Look at that,” said a voice that seemed...not unfamiliar. He raised his eyes with difficulty, and looked into the face of the woman who had fed him. “You aren't dead yet.”

She crouched again, and he shrank from her. She didn't grab for him or move any closer. “If you stay here, you'll die,” she said. “Can you understand me?”

He gave a weak nod, and her face lit up. “Good. I can see you're hurt. We can help you if you let us. Will you let us?”

She extended a hand, palm up, and held it in front of him. She waited, and he tried to make words form in his throat. His throat felt raw and dry and so he could only nod. His arms shook with the effort of holding himself up. He tried to reach for her hand, and fell instead, collapsing on his side in a starry burst of pain. The woman barely reacted, except in her eyes.

“Colossus, you'll have to carry him,” she said, and a huge tower of a man loomed over him. He squirmed back, blocked by the trash, tried to wrap his tail around himself, but it was broken and hurt too much.

“This is Colossus. He's a friend. He won't hurt you.”

He believed her, and he didn't know why, perhaps it was only desperate hope. The giant man lifted him with as much care as a man that size could manage. They walked a long way, and the swaying of the man's arms lulled him to sleep.


	2. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blue mutant Shadowcat rescued is not doing so well, but maybe she can still help him.

“He's been beaten, that much is obvious,” Shadowcat said when they returned safely to their desert hideout. She lit a lamp and hooked it close to the pallet where Colossus had laid the sleeping man. “And he is starving.”

Wolverine, looking over the blue man with Shadowcat, grunted his responses, displeased that she'd brought home another stray. “You keep bringin' 'em home, we won't have enough to feed ourselves.”

“You prefer I leave them to die?” She glared at him and he grunted again. “Go help Colossus with the meal. And make sure to leave plenty for this...new one.”

She rose and put water over the fire to heat, filled a bucket with it, and began trying to clean away the dried blood. His body was covered in a short, dense fur which was soft where it wasn't coated in dirt or blood. It had worked its way through the fur to his skin. He would have to bathe when he woke. Assuming he woke. She was surprised he slept through as much of her ministrations as he did. When she moved to the fresh wound on his back and touched the raw place along his spine, he jolted halfway across the pallet. She sat still, treating him as she would a wild animal.

“You're awake, that's good,” she said quietly. “More food is coming, and water is here.”

She held out a cup but he ignored it, looked around with suspicious eyes, too weak to do much more than that. His arms fell limp at his sides and she eased slightly closer with the water. She held the cup close to his lips and he raised his head to drink. He tried to gulp it, but she took it back and stopped him.

“Ah-ah, you'll get sick. Slowly, sip it.”

He drank more slowly this time, his eyes never leaving her face. She was fascinated by the way his eyes seemed to swirl with yellow light, lacking pupils and yet seeing.

“Can you speak? What is your name?”

She waited while he made garbled sounds, holding his throat, and coughed. He knew his name, he wanted to tell her, to let her know he was not an animal, not to be feared or hated or thrown out with the garbage.

“Never mind,” she said softly. Her voice felt like silk in his ears. People never spoke gently to him. “I was cleaning your wounds. This one hurts, I know. But it must be cleaned or you will get sick and die.”

He listened, but he was still so thirsty that her words passed through his mind like sand in the wind. He reached for the cup again, and she held it for him as he drank greedily. He couldn't help it, he felt so parched, his throat raw. She took it away, the cup passing through his hands from air. He recoiled from it in surprise.

“My talent,” she said with a smile, referring to the way the cup had passed through him. “You were drinking too much again. I do not wish to be vomited upon.”

He tried to speak again, but only a dusty, rough sound came out, unintelligible. The woman smiled slightly though, and he was encouraged to try again. He liked her, and he could not explain to his poor, starved brain why.

“Will you let me clean your wounds?” she said. She was patient and calm and reminded him of dreams of better times. Of kinder people. He nodded weakly and she put her hand on his back. He flinched automatically. She talked to him while she worked. In soothing tones she told him what she was doing and when she was going to touch him.

“Iceman, fill the tub. He requires a bath or none of us will sleep from the stench,” she said to a man.

“None of us want to eat because of it already,” he replied as he carried buckets of heated water behind a curtain. He watched the man carry more buckets, but his attention was on the food cooking. It made his mouth water. He made another sound but still words failed him.

“I know you are hungry,” the woman said. “But you must eat slowly or you'll be sick.”

The huge man, Colossus, set a wooden platter in front of him and he inhaled the smell of warmed bread and some kind of soup. It didn't matter what it was, it was food, and he would eat every bite. Yet he hesitated. Why were they feeding him? What ulterior purpose did they have? Had these people become his new masters?

“Go on,” said the woman, “Eat.” She pushed the tray a little closer.

He reached for the food and once he began eating, he could not stop, no matter the fearful questions rattling in his head. His stomach began to revolt, but they hadn't given him much and he held it down.

“Water,” he rasped, vocal chords and throat beginning to work again.

She handed him the cup. “You _can_ speak.”

She sounded surprised. He drank and nodded. “Yes.” His voice felt like stone.

He realized she had stopped touching him. She must be done. He lay his head back on the pallet, trying to ignore the soreness and pain that he felt fully now that his brain was fed. He surveyed the dark room. Only a fire and a single lamp above his pallet lit the space, but he didn't need either. There were other pallets strewn about, and he would have counted them but his brain was only now beginning, sluggishly, to work properly again. The room was roundish, with a low, stone ceiling and no windows. The walls, too, were stone, and the floor was packed dirt and sand. There was no furniture, only the pallets woven of rushes and the buckets for toting water. The door, he discovered when another woman entered, was in the ceiling.

“Shadowcat, have you brought us another stray?” said the woman as her eyes lit upon him.

“Yes,” she said. “Bad off, but I think he might live.”

“Yes,” he rasped out, and she came around in front of him and squatted. She never tried to touch him, but she smiled.

“Yes, you will live? I hope so. I gave you our first peach in months.”

He cowered, and the smile on her face melted away. “No, it's all right,” she said, “It was worth it.”

Worth it? Him?

Someone else brought a platter of food to the woman, whose name he now knew was Shadowcat. The food smelled wonderful, and again his mouth watered, but he was full. _Full_. A feeling he had not known in a long time. He lay down on the pallet and tried to curl his tail around himself.

“Careful,” she said. “It's splinted.”

He craned his neck to see it. Who was this stranger, this woman who had found him in an alley and decided he was worth saving? He studied her face and hands and the way she held herself. She was a slave, too, he guessed, but perhaps one who had earned her master's trust. But then why would she need to scavenge for food as she had been, if she was cared for by someone? A former slave then, a runaway? Were they all runaways? Or had they been discarded like him?

He sipped the water again and worked his mouth. “Thank,” he managed, and then coughed and fell to the pallet. The man who had broken his tail had done other damage to him, some which was not visible, but which he felt when he moved. He wrapped his arms around his chest and breathed shallowly.

“Your ribs will heal, too,” she said, “Though I don't envy you the recovery.”

She continued eating, and he lay still again, and watched the people around him, always returning to her face.

“Tub is ready,” said Iceman.

“Thank you.” She turned and met his golden eyes. “You must bathe now. It isn't your fault, but you smell terribly. Colossus will help you.”

He knew this routine. Dunking him, spraying him down, water in his eyes and mouth and nose. _He would not do it_. Colossus was already lifting him, and he flailed, trying to scrabble free. Colossus was strong, though, and he was weak, and he could not get away. The woman stood up, pulled the curtain aside, and closed it. Colossus did not let go of him, but he was too weak to keep fighting, and he lay limp in the big man's arms. His arms trembled and when Shadowcat stepped closer to his face, it was full of fear.

“It's only a bath,” she said, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke his face. “No one here is going to hurt you. You don't have to be afraid.”

Colossus set him down on a mat and Shadowcat left. His rags were rags of rags, falling off his bones, and Colossus pulled them away with no effort, then lifted him into the tub. The water was hot, and it felt good, however the tub was small and cramped, and reminded him of the cage. He balked, trying to climb out, but he couldn't get purchase in the water, which was splashing everywhere. Colossus bellowed for Shadowcat, who came to the curtain.

“He is _your_ stray cat. You bathe him,” Colossus said, as water hit her in the face.

“This life has made you cold,” she said, but not unkindly, as she pulled the curtain closed again. Privacy, once forbidden them as slaves, was theirs now, and she would not take it from even the newest among them. She crouched beside the tub, getting soaked in the process. “Stop, please,” she said, and to her surprise, he did. “There, now relax. No one is going to hurt you. It's only water, see?” She dipped her hand in it and poured it on his shoulder.

He had exhausted himself, and his chin hung over the side of the tub, knees pulled up to his chest. He managed to speak one word to her. “Small.”

She sat back in confusion. “What? Oh, the tub? Yes, I know. We don't have luxuries here. This tub is one of our favorite things. Before Wolverine found it, we had to bathe with cloths.” She handed him one to wash with, and he took it, rubbing weakly across his chest. But it was too much, he was too malnourished and tired and frightened. He let the cloth fall into the water still leaning his head on the edge closest to her.

Shadowcat scooped the cloth out of the water and draped it over the edge. “You have been through hell,” she said. “But you will see, we take care of each other here. I know you don't trust me yet, but you will learn I keep my promises.” She tried to hand him the cloth again, but he couldn't move. “I will have Colossus—”

His head jerked up. “No.”

“No? Why not?” She said, her voice ever gentle, even when she called to Iceman, “Bring a cup of water please.” She held her hand to his, and he let her fingers brush against his. “Today is hard, but after this, things will be better.”

Iceman stood beside the tub shaking his head. “You _sure_ he understands you?”

“I'm sure.” She held the cup for him to drink again. “Now, why don't you want me to have Colossus help you?”

“Angry.”

She laughed, and he blinked wildly at her. “He is not angry. Only tired, as we all are. I expect much from everyone and sometimes...they tire of it.” She sighed. “Iceman could help you.”

He shook his head and said, “You.”

“Me?” She rubbed her eyes. “It's not—this isn't that kind of bath.”

He shrank down in the tub until the water reached his chin. “You are,” he said in a gravelly, strained voice, “Kind.”

She hesitated a long time, and he expected to lift his head and find Colossus at his side again, his huge fist clutching the cloth that would scrub him mercilessly.

“All right,” she said. “But you must do some of this yourself.”

He nodded. He could try. If only he had more strength. She wet the cloth and started at his neck, washing gently, not harshly, sometimes with her fingers when the dirt was heavily matted or mixed with blood. She eased him forward to wash his back, and she remembered how it had hurt. He winced now and then when she touched a particularly raw place, but mostly, he decided it felt nice. He was drifting to sleep sitting up when she dumped water over the back of his head.

“Stay awake, just a little longer,” she said. “Tip your head back.” Water cascaded over his head, once, twice, three times, and she held her hand against his brow to keep the water from his eyes. Then she dabbed at his face and his ears with the cloth, and when he opened his eyes, she was right in front of him. She smiled and wiped at the long whiskers of his chin. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” She handed him the cloth with a sweet smile. “But the rest is up to you, unless you want me to send someone to help you.”

He shook his head and mouthed thanks to her, and she went to the curtain, looking out at her people. When he was finished, he wanted to call to her, but all that came out was the “Sha” part. She turned anyway, and took the cloth, hanging it from a peg to dry. She had another cloth to dry him and Colossus came in. This time, Shadowcat made him speak to him before lifting her fuzzy blue stray from the now-brown water. She held up the drying cloth and covered him as Colossus lifted him, then she wrapped it snugly around him and tucked it under his arms. Colossus carried him to a pallet in front of the fire, and he fell asleep immediately.


	3. Recovery

Shadowcat hoped the blue man wouldn't die in his sleep after she'd shared so much of their meager food with him already. Their scavenging was becoming less and less productive with new laws about what could and could not be thrown out, an obvious attempt at controlling the stray mutant population. She had begun to consider the possibility of picking up the group and moving to another city, or, when she dreamed wildly, another country. Perhaps there was one where they could live freely, instead of in hiding in a hole beneath a rock in the desert.

Colossus was right about the strays she brought home. She couldn't expect her people to continue housing and feeding them when there was not enough to go around already. But neither could she leave them behind. Maybe if they went somewhere else, where food was plentiful and honest work could be found, she would no longer have to bring mutants home with her off the streets. She put her head on her knees and sighed wearily.

She looked at Colossus and Jubilee and Wolverine and her other friends, and then at the new one. He must have a name, she thought. She would ask him in the morning. He was sleeping soundly now. She dusted off her pallet and lay down to sleep as well. Unfortunately, her sleep was not as peaceful as his appeared to be. She lay awake, worrying, listening to the sounds of her companions breathing and moving on the rush pallets. Finally she got up and went outside, not bothering with the door as she phased through the wall.

It was dangerous to go out after dark, she knew that. She stood beside the rocks that camouflaged their little home, letting her eyes scan the horizon, lingering at the sharper outlines of the town in the distance. Their daily trek there was always a risk. If someone followed them, or saw them disappear under the ground, they could send the authorities after them. They'd be taken to jail or worse, to the High Priests. She looked up at the stars, shivered and, with one final scan of the horizon, went back inside. The fire still flickered, keeping the chill of night away, lighting the room enough for her to see immediately that the new one was gone.

  
  


He woke gradually, not knowing why, and momentarily forgetting where he was. He'd woken in so many new places, never the place he'd laid his head, that he wasn't even disturbed by it. Then he remembered and he looked for the kind woman—her name was Shadowcat and she made him feel safe—but she was not there. He felt inexplicably afraid for her, and sat up, wincing at the pain in his back and side and hips. Hell, his entire body was a wreck. He searched the room for her, but she was not there. He couldn't stand, his legs would not hold him, so he dragged himself, crawling from blanket to blanket, peering beneath each one to find her. Was she hiding? Had she left and gone out? If they were sleeping, it must be night, and if so, she should not be outside. He had to find her.

His chest constricted with fear and panic at the thought of the night creatures finding her and tearing her apart. He continued crawling, his body protesting every movement, until he finally collapsed in a dark corner, far from the fire. His breath scraped his throat, and his chest ached. He lay still, trying to think how he could possibly find her when his body would not cooperate. Where had the strong, agile man gone?

He scanned the room once again, and saw her pass through the wall clear across the room. He wanted to call out to her, but only a choked sound came out. He could not move more than to reach his hand towards her. And he realized he was invisible to her in the dark. He tried to push himself up again, but lying on his back as he was, he had neither the strength nor the leverage to make his body sit up. He saw her realizing he was gone, going through the same motions he had. Her movements became sharper and hastier as she grew more concerned, scanning the room, unable to find him, fear crossing her face.

She was _afraid_. That was impossible. Why would she be afraid that he was gone? Unless she thought he meant to do them harm. He tried again to call her and managed a small squeak that felt like it was tearing his throat open. He expected to taste blood, but there was none. She glanced his way. She had heard him but she could not see him.

  
  


She knew she had heard the sound, but the room was in shadow and she could not see a source. Not a rat, though, Lockheed the cat would eat them. Slowly she got up and walked the perimeter of the room, wishing she had a name to call out. Where had he gone?

“Man?” she said, not knowing what else to call him. “I know you have a name, but I do not know it. Are you here?”

Another sound, from a dark space by the wall. She hesitated, phased, picked up a sword, and moved cautiously towards the corner beneath the trapdoor. What if he'd been used as bait, meant to fool them into giving away their hideout? What if he didn't even know he'd been used in such a way? And now his masters would come for them, having followed the trail of their mutant. She looked up at the trap door, ready to fight, but there was no one there. The door was silent. From the dark, something touched her foot and she jumped back, brandishing the sword.

“Man?” she said in a harsh whisper. She did not want to wake her friends if there was no need. Sleep was their solace and their refuge. Something invisible scrabbled in the dark. She dashed across the room and fetched the lamp off its hook, where she'd left it above his pallet. She lit it and held it into the shadows. Like magic, he began to appear. Her eyes widened in shock. “How...” Then she realized. “Is that your talent?”

He didn't answer, his face pained, holding his chest with one hand. His mouth moved as he tried to speak but could not. How long had his masters denied him food and water? Not as long as some she'd rescued, she remembered with a quick glance at Jubilee. He looked so distraught and she wondered what had happened in the few moments she had stepped out.

She got on her knees and set the lamp down beside her. “You were invisible,” she said. “I couldn't find you. Why are you over here?”

He pointed at her. “Me?” she said. “Were you looking for me?”

He nodded.

“I was...” she wondered how to explain it. “Checking outside. To make sure we were safe. I'll bring you more water,” she said.

He drank it slowly, no longer desperately thirsty, but letting it linger and coat his throat. He tried to speak, but only a rough gravelly sound came out.

“There is no rush to heal. It takes time. See the girl there?” she said, pointing again to Jubilee. “I found her like I found you, only she was worse. Almost dead. I thought she _was_ dead at first, and several times thought I would bury her out here. But look, she lives. You will, too, but you must rest.”

He nodded and handed her the cup with a shaking hand.

“How did you manage to get across the room?” Then she scratched her head. “And how will I get you back?”

A finger tapped her knee, and she watched his hand motions and the moving of his mouth.

“You crawled?” Of course he did, he was too weak to walk. “I...I am sorry I frightened you.” Half a life of apologies for everything, and she almost never said the words anymore. But this time, she meant them. “Can you make it back?”

He looked across the room and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. She helped him to his knees but his arms began to tremble and he collapsed. She caught him before his chin hit the dirt.

“That is not going to work. Lie still. I'll figure it out.” She wanted him in front of the fire. He was too weak and skinny to stay warm otherwise. She decided to try phasing him and dragging him, and told him so. He looked at her, eyes so big in his sunken face, and her heart ached for the pain her mutant brothers and sisters lived through.

“I will be as careful as I can,” she said. “You must sleep by the fire, for warmth.” She held out her hands and he took them. Phased, he weighed almost nothing, but she hated to drag him so. She adjusted her grip under his arms, and together they managed to scoot back across the floor. She sat down hard once he was back on his pallet, the fire shining on his back and casting shadows over his face. Only his eyes showed.

He wanted to thank her, and before she could move, he tapped the dirt. He wrote, “Thank” and pointed at her. Then wrote “Master.” She stared at that word as if it were poison, her brow knitting together and her mouth turning down. Then she used her fist to smear it away.

“No,” she said, and her voice made him cower. “We don't use that word here. You have no—you are your own. I'm not.” She wrote then, in the dirt, though she did not have to, “Friend.”

He stared at the word until she held out one hand, waiting for him to take it. Tentatively, he laid his own in hers. She didn't grip it or squeeze it, she let his hand rest on hers, and then with her other hand, she very lightly stroked the back of his hand. He decided he liked the way she touched him.

“We are all friends here,” she said, gesturing around the room. Her voice was kind now, not angry.

He nodded slowly, not wanting to upset her with his reluctant belief. “I think you are Nightcrawler,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Because I do not know your name and here we use only code names for safety. And sometimes...to hide the past.”

He _had_ a name. He could write it in the dirt for her, but he had not used it in many years, being called by whatever ugly name his owners concocted for him. And here, she said they did not use them. He considered this new one, approved of it, and smiled.

“You like it?” she said. “It seems fitting.”

He nodded again, and yawned. She could see he had fangs. Fangs, tail, pointed ears. She wondered if he was a mutant or something else entirely. Then she decided it didn't matter.

She let go of his hand and he curled his fingers into his palm to hold onto her touch a little longer. She walked across the room and pulled her pallet alongside his. When she lay down she reached over and patted his hand again. He didn't flinch away, but sighed so long and deep, she thought he might die. He stretched his arm out a little farther and she petted him while he curled into a little ball and closed his eyes.

She'd rescued many stray mutants. Some had stayed with them, some had gone out into the wilderness, hoping to find a better life. Some had died. All had been part of her family for a while. This one, though, she didn't know what it was about him, but she felt drawn to him more than she had any of the others. She hoped he would stay.

She stroked his arm even after she was sure he was asleep. There was a thin furless scar near the elbow, and she knew there were more scars in other places on his body. She'd seen them when she tended him. They all bore scars, every one of them in the little hideaway. There was nothing to do about them except grow stronger for them, and try to help others.


	4. Rehabilitation

Shadowcat's usual routine was to go out in the morning, spend the day in the city scavenging and sometimes stealing, and return just before night. But today, she left that work to the others, concerned that her Nightcrawler might do himself harm trying to find food or water. He managed to sit up to eat and drink, having slept soundly for almost fourteen hours. The underground cave they lived in was empty except for the two of them, in spite of Wolverine's cautions about being alone with him.

“You stay, too, then, if you think he's such a threat,” she said, and Wolverine huffed and stormed out. Shadowcat glanced at Nightcrawler's sleeping form and wondered how such a scrawny little thing could do anyone harm. He could barely sit upright.

After she fed him, she scrounged up some less ruined clothing for him. He was strong enough to sit up for a few minutes at a time, but he could not stand.

“Keep the blanket and when you are stronger, you can put these on,” she said, handing him a tunic and pants.

“Mine?” he whispered.

“Yes. Yours.” He slept a great deal, and ate every time he woke up, though he never asked for food. If she offered it, he ate. She offered it frequently, small amounts at a time.

By the second morning, his voice had returned well enough to answer her questions and ask some of his own.

“Do you have a name?” she asked him on the second morning after he had eaten and was sitting up.

“Nightcrawler.”

She laughed. “Okay.” She moved around the small space, tidying pots and sweeping the rush pallets of sand. It fell almost constantly from the ceiling, though they'd tried to hang cloth to stop it from falling into their hair and mouths and eyes, especially at night.

“Do you think you'll stay?” she said.

“Stay?”

“Yes, here, with us. Sometimes the ones I find stay, sometimes they leave.”

“I will stay.”

“For our protection, do you know if those who once enslaved you might be looking for you?”

He frowned. “No. They are not.”

So they _had_ thrown him out, like used up trash. Past his prime, they probably thought. It made her heart ache.

“Tomorrow, since you are doing very well now, I must go into the city with the others. I will leave food and water for you, but please, don't try to do anything.”

“I was an acrobat,” he said suddenly. “I liked it.”

She stopped what she was doing and came to sit beside him. Most of them didn't talk about their past, only their hopes for the future, or the current state of their lives.

“There were five of us. We worked for a rich man, doing performances for paying customers. But when he tired of us, he sold us off, one by one. I do not know what happened to the others, but I was passed from one to another.”

She'd heard this story from others, not the details, but it was common for slaves to change hands repeatedly if their value was thought not to be worth the cost of feeding them.

“They didn't feed me so I couldn't escape. But then, I couldn't perform either, and then you found me.”

There was nothing to say to these stories, nothing she could do to change the horror of them.

“Why did you come back for me?” he said.

“I couldn't leave you. You would have been killed.”

“I want to help you. All of you.” He waved his hand around the space.

“When you're better, you can.” She smiled. “Welcome to the family.”

  
  


In the evening, after they'd eaten, the group gathered to tell stories. With little to provide entertainment, the evening story time was a favorite of all of them. It had started a long time ago, accidentally, when Wolverine shared a story he'd overheard in the market. The first days of Nightcrawler's recovery, he was too weak to sit through the stories, so Shadowcat sat beside him on his pallet. He lay at her side, his head in her lap so he could see, and she would absently run her fingers through his hair.

Receiving affection after so long was like eating after being starving. Given a crumb, he wanted all of it, and when she touched him, he wanted to wrap himself around her and never let go. Fear of angering her, however, or being sent away, was enough to make him hesitant about everything, and so unless she invited him, he rarely instigated anything. To lay his head in her lap and allow her to touch him with such familiarity made his eyes water. He wanted to savor it, burn it into his brain for the day it was gone, but he fell asleep instead.

  
  


The weeks passed, each day a repeat of the one that came before. During the day, the group would go out, find their way into the city, and scavenge for food and other necessities. They fed Nightcrawler and watched his injuries for signs of infection. As the weeks passed, his strength began to return. He began to do little things while they were out, sweeping the pallets, or shaking out linens. He talked to Shadowcat, but hardly spoke when the others were around, unless they spoke directly to him.

Trust, once lost, is a difficult thing to regain. He was cautious, reserved, and tried to prepare himself for inevitable betrayal. Perhaps they were only waiting for him to be healthy so they could sell him and feed their group. Shadowcat called them a family but most of the time she referred to them as her friends. He called them her companions, if necessary. He did not see himself as part of the group, and he could not think of himself as part of any family.

He learned that their hideout was under a pile of rocks in the desert, painstakingly dug out over months, with the trapdoor on the side away from the city, lest anyone see them descend into the ground without explanation. They were all mutants, none so distinct as himself, though, and he was not allowed to join them on their scavenging forays, even when he was well enough. He entertained himself while they were gone by exercising on the far side of the rock, or doing odd jobs around the hideout.

Shadowcat caught him once when she returned earlier than usual. Walking silently as she did, phased so her feet never touched the ground, she found him practicing some tumbling exercises. When he noticed her, she was watching him curiously, her small pile of loot clutched to her chest. Then she rocked back on one hip and said, “You would make a good swordsman.”

Thus began their lessons. She had learned from her last master, who wanted his slaves to be his guards, able to fend off any danger to his person. He considered them expendable, whereas guards were expensive and difficult to replace. Foolishly, he had not wagered on the slaves turning on him with their newly acquired skills. But Shadowcat had defended him, and because of that, he freed her.

“He was the only one of three masters who did not beat us,” she said. “Still, I was afraid he would have us all put to death for attacking him.” She told the tale after his second lesson, conducted in the early morning before the sun rose too high. They had leaned against the rocks, sweating and pleasantly tired and she told him the strange way she'd learned to sword fight.

“I couldn't believe he freed me. Some days, I still don't believe it. Of course, anyone could come along and change that.” She didn't like to think about that. Even a freed mutant was never truly free.

Nightcrawler was a natural, taking to the sword with an ease she had not expected. His tail had healed and it provided him with a balance she lacked, and three fingers did not hinder his grip on the sword. She wondered if his acrobat past made learning the sword strokes easier. Sometimes when they were done, he would demonstrate some of his acrobatic skills for her. He said he wanted to remember them. She thought he was showing off.

  
  


One evening, several months after Nightcrawler was fully healed, Colossus brought home another mutant. She was unconscious and filthy, her clothing tattered and falling apart. Shadowcat and Colossus immediately set about cleaning and tending her wounds, though Nightcrawler noticed she was doing most of it. Colossus mostly stared at the woman. He had set her on his own pallet, which he placed in front of the fire. Shadowcat knelt beside her, and inspected the cuts and bruises. Her hands were gentle, and he remembered her touching him as carefully when he was injured, and of how she still touched him in the evenings when they listened to stories. His heart began to ache in an odd way, to think of it.

He realized he had become one of the group after all. When— _if_ this woman woke, she would see him as part of the family unit here, already a constant. He was no longer 'the new one,' and he felt proud in a way he had not in a long time. Shadowcat looked at him from across the room and waved him over. He went to her without hesitation, for no matter that she was not his master, he could not refuse anything she asked of him.

“There is a basket of cloths by the fire. I need them and more hot water,” she said. He brought them to her and waited for more instructions. She didn't give any, but now she talked. “Colossus found her. He likes to tease me about _my_ strays, but now I think he understands.” Nightcrawler looked at the huge man, whose eyes had not left this woman's since he set her down.

Colossus did not look up when he spoke. “I knew her.”

Shadowcat's hand froze mid-wrap. “You what?”

“From before. I knew—I _know_ her. She was to be my wife.”

The room fell silent. Shadowcat's hands stopped moving over a wound and tears sprang to her eyes. Nightcrawler had never seen her cry.

“I—I will do everything I can for her,” she finally said, swallowing the tears. Nightcrawler knelt and said, “I can help you.”

He so rarely spoke of his own accord, that once again, the room was silent. “You can?”

He nodded and crouched beside her. “When I was an acrobat, I performed for wealthy people who did not care if we fell or were injured. We learned to care for ourselves.”

He took a clean cloth and another small bucket of warm water and together he and Shadowcat cleaned all the wounds they could find, bandaged them, and set her broken bones.

It was all they could do for the moment. Now she had to wake up, and if she did, that would tell them how extensive the injuries to her head were. She had a black eye, and bruising along her jaw, marks on her neck as well. There was no way to tell if her spine was damaged. Again, they would have to wait for her to wake.

Once finished, Shadowcat began to pace the small room, arms wrapped around her waist. “Nightcrawler?”

He stepped forward. “Here.”

“Come with me,” she said, and held out her hand. He took it, long past being afraid of her, and she phased them both out of the structure and into the growing darkness.

“It is not safe to be out here,” he said, looking around.

“I know. I don't care. I need—I need to breathe.” She put her hands on her hips and paced, while he kept his eyes moving, watching for signs of the creatures. Once spotted, the things would not stop until they had found their prey.

“It is not safe,” he repeated.

“I can't keep doing this,” she said, stopping and facing him. She sounded like she was in pain. “That woman, she's his—his _wife_?”

Now it occurred to him what was wrong. She cared for Colossus. He felt lonelier now and could not explain it. “You did not know?”

“No!” she said, throwing her hands up, still pacing. “No one here...we don't talk about the past. For good reason. We don't even use our real names.” She let her hands fall limply at her sides, shoulders drooping, her face dejected.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and closed her eyes. She wished so many things, had so many dreams. She wondered if any of them would come to pass.

“I don't know what to do,” she said in a small voice as she turned back to him.

“Of course you do,” he said. “You will do what must be done.”

She stared at him a long time, _too_ _long_ , he thought, when they were outside with the sun sinking fast beyond the horizon. Then she took a cautious step towards him.

“Could you...” she wiped dust off her face and took another small step. “I just need someone for a minute.”

He stepped away from her, stopped by the rocks. He knew this, he had heard words like these before, he knew what they meant, and even now, months later, his response was automatic. He had not expected this from _her_. She had promised him there were no masters here.

Her face blanched when he stepped back, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “Oh. Too much?” She turned and walked several steps away, arms still around herself, and head pressed into her chest. She would hold herself, as always.

She looked so small, and he felt bad for her pain, and for rejecting her. Before he could change his mind, he took several long strides and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Holding her felt more like freedom than anything else he'd experienced since his rescue. His heart beat faster and his breath faltered. And the thought slid into place in his mind that he loved her.

“We must go inside,” he said, letting go abruptly. “It is dark and no longer safe.”

She followed him slowly, wiping at her face as she phased them back inside.


	5. Ruse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The government really hates these sneaky mutants and decides to take some steps to stop them.

The woman's name was Domino, and Shadowcat and Colossus took turns watching over her while she healed. Colossus did not want to leave her side, but there were times his strength was required, and he had to. He was by her side when she opened her eyes. At first she only cried. Over the course of her recovery, she and Colossus renewed their promises to one another, and Nightcrawler was surprised at how pleased and happy Shadowcat seemed now. He didn't understand, and didn't try to.

Not long after Domino had recovered enough to walk, Shadowcat found another mutant stray, a small woman who'd been abandoned in an alley. The woman seemed frail and old, with poor eyesight. She trembled when they spoke to her, but Shadowcat was reluctant. Something about the woman was off, perhaps in the way her eyes took them in, perhaps in the way she held herself.

Shadowcat smiled at her and assured her they would help. Then she took Wolverine aside. “I don't like this. Something about her is wrong.”

“She don't smell right t'me, either,” he agreed. “Whatever we do, better decide. It's gettin' late.”

“We'll take her with us when we leave, but we will use the north gate. If she means to ambush us, they will have no more clue to our location than before. If they've decided to come after us, I want to know.”

Wolverine grunted a response, and they returned to the woman, crouched in an alley in an eerily similar fashion to the way they'd discovered Nightcrawler. Shadowcat wondered if they'd been seen taking him away and if the authorities had decided to do something about her little missions of mercy at last.

Shadowcat and Wolverine headed to the north gates of the city, farthest from their secret hideaway in the desert. Jubilee and Iceman would be going out another way, and they had no way of alerting them to any possible danger. Shadowcat's spine prickled as they passed through the city gates.

“Where are we going?” the woman asked as she hobbled along beside them.

“Home,” Wolverine replied without glancing at her.

“Where is home?”

Shadowcat decided to play along. “Just over that ridge of sand,” she said. “There is an abandoned dwelling there.” When the city was walled in, some of the homes farther outside the city were not enclosed, and were eventually left to rot. She knew there was one just over the rise.

The woman shuffled along, slower now, “Haven't the authorities searched there?”

“Yes,” Shadowcat said. “But they haven't found us, have they?”

“How have you managed it?”

Shadowcat noticed the way the woman's eyes darted about. She was definitely a plant, especially with her questions. She and Wolverine exchanged a glance and prepared for a fight. “Oh, we're pretty sneaky.”

“They won't stop looking for you. You rescue the slaves they need and then come back and steal our food.”

“We scavenge for what is thrown away. That is why we are so hungry.” Shadowcat didn't miss the woman's slip. She was one of them, no doubt she meant to find their hideout and probably report back what she found.

“Don't you worry they will catch you some day? Throw you to the High Priests?”

Shadowcat stopped and turned on the woman, drawing her sword. “How stupid do you think we are?

The woman laughed in their faces. “Stupid enough to tell me where your hideout is located. Stupid enough to take me with you so the guards could find you.”

Shadowcat and Wolverine grinned at the woman.

“Is that so?” Wolverine said, folding his arms.

“You useless mutant slaves! You'll be taken to Dhiba and—” _Chunk_. An arrow flew through her heart and she fell. Apparently, the guards didn't value her after all. More arrows rained down around them, but Shadowcat's quick grip on Wolverine made him intangible. They were surrounded. Shadowcat raised her sword, unafraid. Wolverine's claws were already out, and he rushed one of the guards who had appeared from his hiding place. In seconds, a calm, peaceful evening had turned into the chaos of fighting. Two against twenty was not good odds, unless Wolverine was one of those two. From a distance, mostly unnoticed, the head of the guards observed. When at last his twenty men lay dead or immobilized on the ground, he slipped away to report to his superiors.

Winded and injured, the two friends slunk into the low desert brush and down the ridge. Hopefully there would be no more guards sent out after them. Now that they were aware the guards were watching them, and actively searching for them, they would need to adjust their tactics. They also couldn't risk the trip home tonight. At least not yet. They could only hope Jubilee and Iceman had made it back and not been waylaid.

Night was falling fast, and they had to make a decision—risk going home, risk the night creatures, or use the very cabin she'd just claimed was their hideout.

“Guards're still watchin' us,” Wolverine said, sealing the decision.

“We go to the cabin and wait for night. And then pray we don't run into the night creatures on our way home.”

Staying until morning would be as much a death sentence as facing the night creatures. By morning, every guard in the city would be trained on the rotting structure, and even before the sun rose, they'd burst in, slap chains on them, or kill them while they slept. Shadowcat would rather die than be a slave again, but that didn't mean she would go easy.

  
  


“Where are the others?” Iceman asked when he dropped into the cave and didn't see Shadowcat or Wolverine.

“Not back yet,” Colossus replied from his seat beside the fire.

“It's getting late,” Jubilee said. “Almost dark.”

“There is nothing we can do about that,” Colossus said.

Nightcrawler wasn't worried. Not yet. Often one of the groups would be delayed, sometimes returning just as darkness settled. He hopped up from his usual spot on his pallet and went to the ceiling trapdoor, easily leaping through it to the outside. Now that he was healthy and fed, his agility and strength were returning more each day. He climbed to the top of the rocks and watched, invisible in the dark to any but the night creatures. To his left, the sun sank lower and lower, finally disappearing below the horizon. There was no sign of anyone from the city.

He wanted them to come home. He wanted Shadowcat to come home. In many years, he could not remember a time he could say he was happy, or anything resembling it. But he had begun to understand the thing he felt around her was more than simple devotion, it was real happiness. And perhaps a great deal more.

The last pink rays of sunlight faded to purple and blue, and the stars shone above them. The moon always warned of danger, but he did not go inside yet. If the creatures appeared, he'd teleport inside and be safe. They could not go after him there.

He stretched, crouched, shifted. It grew later, and he began to wonder if they'd been caught. Or killed. Finally he poked his head back into the trapdoor.

“Something has happened to them,” he said.

Colossus shrugged. “It would be unfortunate. But you know there is nothing we can do. The night is death to all.”

Nightcrawler closed the door and climbed back onto the rocks, debating. She had told him not to go into the city. She had told him to stay in the cave. She had told him not to come after them, ever, because if they did not return, they were dead or worse. But she had also told him there were no masters here. He hopped down and started walking towards the city.

  
  


The abandoned dwelling was in worse shape than she'd expected, but Shadowcat had few options at this point. Not only were they being watched, but night had fallen and the creatures would be out. She hoped they hadn't already latched onto their scent. Likely they'd tear down the hovel to get to them.

She glanced around. “Do you think they can get in?” she said to Wolverine.

“Never heard of 'em doing that.”

“I wonder why.”

“Probably don't need to. They get enough to eat with the damn High Priests offerin' 'em prisoners every other day.” He stalked from window to door, unable to settle.

Shadowcat assessed her injuries. Nothing that would kill her, but they needed to be cleaned and wrapped, especially the one on her leg. They'd stopped bleeding, fortunately, so she left them as they were, choosing to wait until they returned home before cleaning and tending them.

The truth of the situation settled over her shoulders as she realized she could no longer save abandoned mutants. Not if the authorities were watching them, actively trying to find their hideout, using mutants to trick them. She couldn't imagine them killing a human the way the guards had just done with the old woman, but a mutant? Without thought. How had they convinced her to turn on them? It didn't matter. She was dead now.

Wolverine finally stopped pacing and leaned against one of the rickety walls. Above, portions of the ceiling had caved in, leaving gaping holes for the moonlight to shine through, illuminating the space. As the night wore on, slowly, the way time seems always to pass when one is waiting for something, they heard sounds outside. At first, they paid little attention to them, but as they grew louder and closer, they couldn't ignore them. Wolverine risked going to the window to look out, but he could see nothing, even when he stuck his head out. Shadowcat leaped up, pulling him back inside in a panic.

“Are you _trying_ to get killed?” she hissed.

The door rattled. Shadowcat drew her sword and Wolverine popped his claws, and they turned to face whatever came inside. She thought of her friends, of their little space, and of Nightcrawler. She loved her friends as much as she dared allow herself to. Love was dangerous, something to be used as a weapon later, and so she tried to feel nothing more than camaraderie for anyone. She was finding it more challenging than it should be with him.

The door rattled again and then opened slowly, but there appeared to be no one there.

“Wait, Wolverine,” Shadowcat said, “I think it might be—”

“Shadowcat?” Nightcrawler said at the same time, stepping into a beam of moonlight so they could see him.

Her warning was too late, and Wolverine pounced, landing on a pile of putrid, purple smoke instead of their friend. He stood up, shaking himself off. “What the hell?

Shadowcat looked around, spotting him in a corner, panting. “Please don't attack me again,” he said.

She wanted to. She wanted to throw herself at him, and then smack some sense into him. “What are you doing?” she demanded instead.

“You didn't return.” From the corner where he stood catching his breath, she looked angry, and he was sorry to be the cause of it. But another look around the place made him glad he'd come for them. The building wasn't safe. “We should go, before the creatures find you,” he said.

“We were about to,” Wolverine said, “when you showed up.”

“I didn't see any on my way here, but they must be out by now,” he said. “What happened?”

“Ambushed,” Shadowcat said.

“She's a sucker for strays and it backfired,” Wolverine said.

“No it didn't. I knew there was something wrong. I wanted to see what we were up against. And now we know they're watching us.”

Nightcrawler moved closer to her, and she noticed the sword at his waist. “Where'd you get that?”

“I took it off a deceased guard outside.”

“They haven't collected the bodies?” she said in surprise.

“No,” Nightcrawler replied, “So we should really be leaving.”

  
  


They snuck through the night, led by Nightcrawler's good vision, staying just beneath the rise of sand and rocks, until it flattened out. He couldn't see anyone on the wall, but they could be watching from one of the towers. She and Wolverine stayed behind Nightcrawler, using his night camouflage as cover, hoping against hope that it would be enough. On the south side of the city there was more cover, and they were able to hide behind rocks and hills all the way home.

Once there, Shadowcat sealed the trapdoor carefully from the outside, covering it with extra rocks and sand until it was invisible. Then she phased through it, disturbing none of her work.

The others were asleep, but Colossus and Jubilee woke when the trapdoor opened to let the three of them in.

“We thought all three of you were lost,” he said, his voice rumbling in his deep chest, even when he whispered.

“I'll tell you all about it in the morning,” Shadowcat said as she dipped a clean cloth in the water warming over the fire. She wiped off the worst of the dried blood before lying down for the night. Nearby, Nightcrawler curled into a ball, tight, tucking everything close and waiting for her to chastise him.

She settled down on her pallet after brushing aside some sand. Her leg stung from cleaning it, and she hoped it wouldn't keep her awake. The fire was still burning and she could see only Nightcrawler's back. His tunic covered scars she knew were there.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “That was foolish of you. But no one has ever risked the night to find me before.”

Slowly he rolled over, finding her face in the dark. He was at a loss for words, almost as he had been when they first met. Her hand moved across the space between their pallets, and he laid his over it, curling his fingers around hers as the rest of his body relaxed.

“I would do it again,” he said.

She scooted closer, so her arm lined up with his, the fur soft and warm against her skin. “And I would tell you it was foolish again, and still be grateful.”

“That cabin,” he said, “They would have killed you in it. There was no roof.”


	6. Reconsider

Shadowcat decided things needed to change, and soon. The city was no longer safe. The guards would continue hunting them during the day, the night creatures kept them isolated in the dark. Eventually, one or the other would find them and kill them all.

She called her group together one night to discuss their future.

“We've been living like this a long time, with some success,” she said. “However, the guards are putting more effort into hunting us down now. They will give us to the High Priests or kill us outright. Every day we go into the city, we risk our lives and our home. I ask myself why?” She looked at each of them in turn. “Why do we stay here?”

Colossus spoke up. “It is better than slavery.”

“Yes it is. But we still have nothing, and now even _that_ is threatened. What if we could go somewhere else?”

“An' just where the hell would that be?” Wolverine growled his question, eyes on Shadowcat, full of skepticism and annoyance.

“I don't know yet. First I need to know if we are willing to take the risk of leaving at all.” Shadowcat was the leader of this small group of outcasts and former slaves, but that didn't mean they followed her blindly.

“I'd have to believe there was such a place first,” Wolverine replied.

“There is.”

All eyes turned to Nightcrawler. He wished he could slink back into the shadows, but he focused on Shadowcat's eyes. This was not the attention he was accustomed to as a performer. This was different.

“Where?” she said, her voice tremulous. Perhaps she had not believed such a place existed either.

“There are cities they would not take us,” he said. “The performers' handlers. I heard them talking once.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, remembering. “They said, if they took us there, and we ran, they could not force us to go back.”

Her voice cracked and she took a halting step toward him. “ _Where_?”

He shook his head. “I do not know, not exactly. But I know it exists.”

If it existed, they only had to find out where it was and get there. Finally, there was real hope.

“It exists,” she whispered in shock, and repeated, “It _exists_. So do we go?”

The room was filled with mumbling and murmuring as they talked among themselves. She looked around at each of her friends, her face filled with hope that gradually fell away as none of them would give an answer.

“What is your decision?” she said at last, addressing all of them at once. The smile was gone from her face and her shoulders drooped.

“You gotta give us more time to think about that,” Wolverine said, standing up. “You can't spring this on us and expect us to answer right away.”

“That's fair,” she said. She looked at all of them again, determination back in her eyes. “I want a new life. I want us all to have more than this, a life under a rock, scrounging for scraps and dodging guards. We deserve better. I will ask for your decision in one week.”

“An' you better get more information,” Wolverine said, eyeing Nightcrawler. “All we got's _his_ word.”

Shadowcat paused, looking from one man to the other. Wolverine had been with her a long time, but his attitude lately was becoming more and more calloused. “I trust him,” she said. “He has no reason to lie to us.”

Across the room, Nightcrawler swept off his pallet, trying to ignore Wolverine's words. He still lay close to the hearth, but the space in front had been given to Domino. He was no longer scrawny and weak. It had taken time, and effort, and it had at times been painful, but he was putting himself back together. He settled down and waited for Shadowcat to come and rest. She still kept her pallet near his, and even when Domino had come to them, she had not moved it. Probably because Colossus was there.

She was restless, rocking back and forth even when she sat down. “Do you want to go?” she whispered to him.

“I will go where you go,” he said.

“You don't have to do that. You're free now.”

“I wish to go where you go,” he said.

He watched as her eyes strayed across the room to where Colossus and Domino lay resting in each other's arms. She sighed quietly, and Nightcrawler's heart felt odd and achy. He pressed his hand to it.

“Are you all right?” she said, becoming instantly alert.

“Yes, I'm fine.” His hand drifted back to his lap, and he said, “Are you?”

She closed her eyes and drew her knees up to her chest. Her family group relied on her. They trusted her, listened to her, sometimes obeyed her blindly, questioned her, but rarely did they worry that she might be too burdened. “No,” she said, eyes still closed as she pressed them to her knees.

She heard him moving on the pallet, and she opened her eyes to see that he had moved closer to her. He held out his hand. She wanted to hold more than his hand, she wanted to be held, but she could not ask that of him, not when he was still broken inside. Her eyes became blurry and she blinked, trying to clear them, and then a tear fell onto the back of his hand.

He had shied from touch, leery that anything might become a beating, having been misled too many times before. But she reminded him that he had enjoyed affection long years ago. He could, perhaps, enjoy it again. Since he'd held her that day outside, he had hoped for a reason to put his arms around her again.

He reached out hesitantly, and touched her hair. Along the sides of her face, wisps had come loose from the long braid that hung down her back. He tucked them behind her ear and laid his hand on the back of her head. She lifted her face and smiled with sad eyes.

Shadowcat was lonely, even among her family of friends, and she carried the burden of leadership alone. She had no spouse, no children, no siblings, no one to comfort her after a difficult day, no one to reassure her or quietly correct her. Everything was her fault, good or bad.

He moved a little closer, sliding across to her pallet, and opened his arms to her. She hesitated, then leaned in until her cheek rested on his shoulder and he cradled her in his arms. He shifted uneasily when the others looked over, Wolverine in particular eyeing him like prey. Nightcrawler started to push her away, afraid he had overstepped his place, and Wolverine would punish him.

She lifted her head in disappointment, and saw him glancing back at Wolverine.

“Ignore him,” she said. “He's just grumpy.” Shadowcat scowled at him, and he looked away, rolling to his side.

She felt the firm grip of his arm around her shoulder again, and let her head fall back to his chest.

“Thank you,” she said.

He thought about their exchange outside the night Domino came to them, the last time he had worked up the courage to hold her. She had said she needed someone, and he had assumed... _wrong_ , he realized. Now, he wanted to stay in this moment with her, her head against his shoulder, her breath ghosting across his neck. She stayed in his arms a long time, and when she moved to lie down, she stopped him from crawling away.

“You can stay if you want,” she said, and he lay down beside her, and let her hold him while she slept.

  
  


“Sound off, those who want to go.” A week later, Shadowcat had gathered them once again to make a decision. Stay and continue to scavenge under more and more difficult circumstances, or leave and try for a better life.

All but three spoke up immediately. Jubilee was first to dissent.

“Why not?” Shadowcat asked.

Jubilee stood very straight when she answered her. “I can't leave my son here.”

Shadowcat looked worse than she had the night Colossus found his wife. “Your son?”

“He was taken from me and given to a family. I watch him when we go into the city,” she admitted. “It's why I never have much food.”

Shadowcat closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Perhaps sharing nothing about their pasts was not such a good idea after all. She took deep breaths before she spoke again. “Who else has family here?”

Two other hands went up, Colossus and Wolverine.

“Who?”

“My little sister,” said Colossus.

Wolverine kicked the dirt. “Wife.”

She laced her hands behind her neck now, chewing her lip. “We will get them back, no matter what. But...then will you come with us?”

“Yeah,” Wolverine said, and both Colossus and Jubilee also agreed.

Nightcrawler waited until Shadowcat was alone before he approached her. “I want to go with you.”

“Of course you're going with us. We'll all go together. Do you think I would leave you behind?” It hurt that he would think that.

He shook his head. “When you go for the others, to get them back. I can help.”

“You know why I don't allow you to come with us into the city,” she said, but it wasn't _No_.

“I do. But I am a teleporter.”

“Yes, I remember. That's the only reason Wolverine didn't kill you that night.”

He nodded and sat down, rolling from crouch to backside and folding his legs. “I have not been able to for a long time. It requires a great deal of energy, which I have not had until recently.” He didn't look away when he said, “It's why they didn't feed me.”

“I have to free a baby and a sister and a wife. I can use your help.”

“The baby will be easiest. I can teleport him directly here. It is not too far.”

She nodded. “You can have that job. You and Jubilee talk. Find out where he is.”

  
  


They spent two weeks planning and gathering supplies. Jubilee and Nightcrawler worked out how to find and rescue her son. Shadowcat would find Colossus's sister and use her intangibility talent to free her. Wolverine intended to get his wife back himself.

This would be their final foray into the city. It was simply too dangerous to continue foraging there anymore. The guards stalked the city all day, looking for anyone who might be a mutant living on the streets. The trash was swept up more often, sometimes every day. Food was scarcer than usual.

“We must be quick,” Shadowcat said as she addressed her family before the final trek, “Find your people and return here as soon as you can. We will leave as soon as everyone has returned.”

“It is too dangerous to travel at night,” Colossus said, folding thick arms across his chest.

“If we travel in the daytime, they will surely find us. At night, we have a chance of getting away.” Shadowcat wasn't happy about the idea, either, but daytime meant they would be found for sure. The entire city was already on alert, and once the baby and the two women were found missing, there would be an uproar. “We have to take the risk.”

“And where are we going?” Wolverine asked.

“Where no one ever goes,” she said. “They have filled our minds with stories of the danger, and the promise of death to anyone who dares venture over the hills. And Nightcrawler has never been there.”

“You believe that is where the land of freedom lies?” Colossus said.

“I do.”

“Then I will follow you,” he said. “If you can free my sister.”

They waited until it was very nearly dark, the sun dropping dangerously low in the sky. Shadowcat and Colossus, Nightcrawler and Jubilee, and Wolverine ventured out together, taking the dirtiest back alleys and sticking to the shadows as much as possible.

Shadowcat refused to think about what lay in the hills. It was equally possible the stories weren't lies, and she was dooming all of them to certain death. She thought about Nightcrawler and Jubilee, walking the street together, his features hidden only by meager rags they'd scavenged, hoping to hide him from prying eyes. She worried that he would not be able to teleport the baby back to the hideout, or if he did, he would injure himself. They couldn't spare enough food to give him any extra without delving into their travel stash, which was already critically insufficient. Once they left, there was no guarantee they would find anything fit to eat, let alone enough to feed them all.

Nightcrawler assured her he could do it, told her not to fear, but she _did_. If he was caught taking the baby, what would they do to him? Kill him outright, probably. Or enslave him again. Maybe torture him. Her heart flew into her throat, remembering how broken he'd been when she found him. She shook her head free of those thoughts and ducked into a darkening alley with Colossus at her side.

They arrived at the last place he'd seen his sister, the home of a wealthy businessman and his wife. Colossus lifted her to his shoulder and she peeked over the tall fence into the yard. There was no one outside, not this close to dark, so she and Colossus walked through the fence like air, only to find most of the windows were shut and shuttered. Shadowcat cautiously phased her head through the first, only her eyes visible. The room was empty and she climbed inside from Colossus's shoulders. They were both at a disadvantage now, with Shadowcat in the house and Colossus unable to escape without breaking the fence down and drawing attention to himself.

She snuck through the rooms, silent as dust motes, hiding inside the thick walls whenever she heard what might be a person coming towards her. Slaves lived in the basements or outside, so she checked the basement first. The house was dark, with only a candle burning dimly here and there, and she had a hard time finding her way. Nightcrawler could see in the dark, but he was needed to save the child. Still, she wished he was here.

She only had Colossus's description of his sister to go on, and she hoped she would be able to find the girl. There were several cots in the basement, and the thought struck her that she could not leave these other girls behind and take only Magik. They would be punished when the girl turned up missing. She counted four total. It would create a strain on the group, she knew, but she could not leave them here.

There was nothing to do now but wait for them to come to their beds, and hope Colossus wasn't found.


	7. Rescues

Across the city, Jubilee pointed out to Nightcrawler the house where her son currently lived. He'd been snatched from her arms when he was two months old, and when she was caught trying to sneak into the house to take him back, they beat her nearly to death. That was when Shadowcat found her. Jubilee slunk back the way they'd come, to return to the hideout and wait for him to bring her baby home. She was nearly in tears at the thought of holding him again.

Nightcrawler was pleased to be helping at last, not left behind in the rock hole to wait for others to provide his food and other necessities. He was a liability, just another mouth to feed, unless he could help them. This was a good start.

He climbed silently up the wall, staying as far into the shadows as possible, where he was invisible. Peering through the first window he came to with a view into the house, he saw a dark room full of furniture. In the lighted hall beyond, a woman passed by, carrying a baby and singing softly. Nightcrawler found the window opened easily, creaking a little. He left it open and waited, but when no one came to investigate, he crawled into the room.

He snuck along the walls, listening. The woman's voice drifted down the corridor, still singing. He waited for her to stop, praying all the while that no one would come into this dark room and find him lurking. Footsteps moved down the hall, and a shadow passed the doorway, then continued on. He waited a little longer, to be sure the hall was empty, then leaned out of the dark room.

On quiet feet he made his way along the hall, looking into each room until he found the baby's nursery. He started to pick him up but paused when he noticed a half-empty bottle on a table. What would Jubilee feed this child? He took the bottle and gathered a few more things he found into a cloth bag, which he slung over his shoulder. Then carefully he took the baby into his arms and teleported.

  
  


Wolverine kicked open the door of the home where Mariko was enslaved and shoved aside the first man who came at him. Once the guards were dealt with, he strode through the rooms, looking for her. A tall man in a fancy suit turned a corner and shrieked, throwing his hands up in the air at the sight of Wolverine's claws.

“Where's Mariko?”

The man fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Wolverine swore and went around the corner from which the man had come, into a room where Mariko was sitting in a luxurious bed, reading. When she saw Wolverine, her eyes and mouth went wide.

“What—what are you doing here?” she asked, hands trembling as she dropped her book in her lap.

“Came to get you. We're leaving.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, sitting on the bed so he could touch her face and gaze into her eyes. “I'm taking you away from this place, taking you with me, and we're going to start a new life.”

“Logan,” she whispered, beginning to cry, “I cannot go with you.”

“Yes, you can. It's all worked out.”

“No. You don't understand.” She bowed her head. “I am married.”

“No kidding, you're my _wife_ , you think I forgot?”

She put her face in her hands and sobbed. “They invalidated our marriage, Logan. We are not married any more.”

He began to understand what she was telling him and slowly he withdrew from her. “What are you saying?” he asked, wanting to hear the truth from her own lips.

“I am married to the master of this house. He—he has given me a good life. As good as I could have ever hoped for.”

“Mariko...how?”

“He fell in love with me. Offered to marry me. I was tired of suffering.” She looked up in fear now, and clasped her hands together. “Please don't hurt him,” she begged.

“Do you love him?”

“I...I am grateful that I do not fear for my life every day. I am grateful for what he provides for me.”

“Do you _love_ him?” Wolverine repeated.

She sobbed harder. “I—am ashamed but yes, I love him.”

Wolverine turned on his heel and walked out, knocking aside a few more guards who gave chase. Outside the house, he began to run back to the hideout.

  
  


Shadowcat finally heard the sound of feet, the slaves returning to their basement room after a long day. When the girls were settled in their cots, Shadowcat crept to the bed she believed Magik was in and covered the girl's mouth with her hand, whispering in her ear, “Are you the sister of Colossus? Magik?”

The girl nodded, and slowly Shadowcat took her hand away, one finger over her lips to keep her quiet. “I've come to get you.”

The girl rolled to her side, no more than six or seven years old. “Can we take the others with us?”

Shadowcat was glad she'd already made up her mind to do exactly that. “Yes. We will bring them along.”

She wished she could have seen Colossus's face when she began phasing girls through the wall to his waiting arms.

  
  


Jubilee paced the length of the cave, back and forth, unable to rest for more than a moment. When at last she heard a baby's cries outside the trapdoor, she nearly injured herself trying to get to her son. She sank to the floor with him, rocking and weeping onto his little head. Then she stopped crying and started thanking Nightcrawler. He ignored it and showed her the bag instead.

“I saw these things and brought them for you,” he said.

Jubilee looked astonished as she dug through the bag. “I was so focused on getting Shogo back, I never thought to ask for this stuff.”

Nightcrawler went to his pallet to wait for the rest of the team to return, while Domino and Iceman and others in the group gathered around Jubilee to welcome her baby home.

He was tired. Teleporting was a strain without proper nutrition, and though the baby was small, he was still an added stress. Fortunately neither of them had any trouble. Nightcrawler hadn't fainted or become disoriented, and the baby had only cried a little. He lay down on the pallet to rest and wait. Shadowcat might worry if he wasn't himself, and they would be traveling soon. He needed all his strength, especially if the night creatures found them.

It seemed to take forever. Wolverine returned first, went to a corner and said nothing. He did not have his wife with him, and Nightcrawler wondered if she was dead. A few minutes later, Jubilee got to her feet, the baby cooing in her arms and seeming to understand on some level that he was with his mother again. She went to Wolverine, and to Nightcrawler's shock, said, “Shogo wants to meet his grandfather,” she said.

Nightcrawler lifted his head and watched in curiosity. Jubilee and Wolverine were father and daughter? When Wolverine inclined his head to smile at Jubilee, there were tears in his eyes.

Only Shadowcat and Colossus had yet to return. Nightcrawler lay curled on his pallet, his limbs tucked into himself as tight as he could. When he had lived in a cage he'd done the same, keeping his fingers and toes and the spade of his tail out of the reach of biting animals and meddlesome owners. He had to be patient and trust that Shadowcat knew what she was doing. And Colossus, too, of course.

A hundred things could go wrong. He listed them even as he told himself nothing _had_ gone wrong. The child would come home with them, and Shadowcat would be all right, and she would smile when she saw him and...

 _Oh_. There was that shift in his heart again. He took a deep breath and said a little prayer that she would return soon. Safe.

The trapdoor lifted at last, and a little blond head poked through with a wide grin. Behind her, another young girl, then a teenager who was probably the second girl's sister, and finally a young woman with bright red hair all dropped down into the room. Colossus and finally Shadowcat emerged, shutting the door behind her. Nightcrawler sat up on his pallet, feeling like a coiled spring resisting the urge to run to her.

“How many sisters you got?” Wolverine said to Colossus, as he rocked Jubilee's son in his arms.

“One. The others are her friends. They were slaves in the same house.” He scratched his head. “Shadowcat...Shadowcat and I could not leave them behind.”

No one said a word about Wolverine's missing wife. It was simply understood that it would not be discussed.

Shadowcat had a bag over her shoulder and she set it down with a heavy thump. “I stole this stuff from the same house,” she said, “More food.” She reached in and tossed Nightcrawler a peach. This one wasn't half rotted.

“Sun set an hour ago,” Wolverine said, “Thought you might have run into some trouble. I shoulda known.”

Shadowcat smiled at him. “Congratulations, Grandpa,” she said. “My Nightcrawler found the baby, I see.”

Jubilee positively beamed. “He did. He found a bunch of food and stuff for him, too.”

Nightcrawler sat silently on his pallet, listening to the exchange and following Shadowcat's movements with only his eyes. She appeared uninjured, and he inhaled deeply, letting the worry for her well-being drift away. Instead he wondered why she had called him _hers_.

“Our timeline has changed. We will stay here tonight, so the new ones can rest, but tomorrow, no one can go into the city,” Shadowcat said. “They'll be looking in the morning.”

Her plan to travel at night had to be scrapped when she realized the newcomers would have had no rest at all. They wouldn't be able to travel as far or as fast without some sleep, and it was crucial they get as far away from the city as they could, as fast as they could. Now, they would leave before sunrise, she decided, and hope the night creatures had already gone home.

There was a little murmur of questioning regarding this change in plans, but it quickly died down when Jubilee stood up.

“Thank you. These might be the last peaceful moments with my son. If we're attacked or found...” She gave the baby a nuzzle. “Thank you.”

Shadowcat nodded and went to her pallet. Nightcrawler didn't try to hide that he was watching her, and when she sat beside him she took his hand, an automatic gesture whenever they were together.

“What do you think?” she said.

“About what?”

“The plan, of course.”

No one before her had ever asked his opinion about anything. She waited for him to answer, expectant but patient as usual.

“You are a good leader.”

“Maybe sometimes, but this is a big undertaking. If I'm wrong, we'll all die. So...do you think it's worth it? Worth the risk?”

“It is always worth the risk to be free.”

She scooted slightly closer, drawn to him as she always was. He put his hand on her knee and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Why did you call me yours?”

“What?”

“You said _My_ Nightcrawler.”

“Oh.”

He watched her face turn shades of pink while she thought of her answer.

“I don't know,” she said at last. “I didn't mean to.”

“It's all right,” he said, and his gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips, to her shoulders, to her hand clasped in his. He imagined being permitted, some day, to trace that path over her body with his hands instead of his eyes. “Does that make you My Shadowcat?” he whispered.

She stared at her lap, but he could see her lips quirking up in a shy smile. “Yes,” she said.

“We will leave soon,” he said. “Lie down and sleep. My Shadowcat.”

They both lay down, facing each other, both lost in happy, confusing thoughts, fingers intertwined, until they fell asleep.


	8. Roads Unknown

Nighttime in the land was dangerous for everyone, even the masters. Even the High Priests. No one went outside after dark, and if they did, they did not return alive. The creatures that scuttled about in the night fed on any living thing they chanced upon. People who went out and returned, seemingly unscathed, were often refused entry into a home and no one talked about _why_. Stories of the murderous beasts kept children in line and slaves from running off.

Usually.

A line of former slaves trudged across the dusty desert, each carrying a bag, or a rucksack, or a baby. They were silent, hoping to avoid the creatures' notice until morning. It was still dark, and the moon was the tiniest sliver in the sky. On the horizon, light began to grow, turning the sky from pink to orange. Soon the sun would rise and they would be safe for a little while. The hills were not that far away, but it would take days to reach them. And each night would be another chance for the creatures to attack and kill them all, or worse. There was no question in any of their minds that all of them would die if the creatures found them. The stories said they hunted in packs, latched onto the scent of their prey and never let go until they had caught them and devoured them, bones and all. Most people never saw them, but now and then a creature would be spotted from a window, hastily closed.

Nightcrawler walked at the front, guiding them, with Shadowcat beside him. Wolverine brought up the rear of the line, using his enhanced sense of smell to stay alert for danger. They traveled at a brisk pace, necessary to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the city before morning. They would not be as far as she would have liked by the time dawn arrived, but hopefully it would be far enough that they would not be noticed by any who might be looking for them.

“Those rocks,” Nightcrawler said, pointing ahead of them to a steep pile of boulders. “We can use them for shelter, perhaps.”

Shadowcat considered the pile, not too far from where they were now. If they could reach it before the sun rose, they could indeed use those rocks as a shield from the city. She had no way to know how serious the search for them would be, or if they would send guards outside the city walls. If they did, they might be on horseback, and that would put them all at even greater risk if they were spotted.

She imagined the guards finding their hideout, going through the space where she and her friends had lived for several years. It made her feel anxious and angry. Then she imagined them finding her family and friends, and taking them all away or murdering them outright. And that thought spurred her to walk faster towards the rocks.

She looked back over her shoulder at the line of her friends, her _family_ , behind her, and reminded herself that they were strong and capable and determined. They had all lived through their own set of horrors, and found a way to live together. The hole in the ground had been a home to them all, but they would make a new one. A better one, she told herself, in a land where they would not be hunted. Where they would be free. If they could survive the trip.

Behind the rocks, the group settled down to rest. They set up the sheets of cloth they'd taken down from the hideout, once draped along the ceiling and now used to shade them from the sun.

“Rest if you can,” Shadowcat told them. “Today will be the longest day. As soon as we can safely begin walking again, we will.” She prayed they would find a safe place to shelter through the darkest part of night, when they would be most at risk from the creatures. A cave or abandoned building. Anything to keep them safe from the night creatures.

Food was shared cautiously, and water portioned out. They settled in for the long day, huddling together to tell stories to pass the time. They talked of happy times, and dreamed of what the free country might be like.

Magik scowled as she listened to the group fantasizing about comfort and safety. “ _I_ want to know about the night creatures that are going to eat us,” she said.

Colossus patted her head and her scowl deepened. “We don't know anything about them other than the same stories you have already heard, little Cactus Flower. None of us have seen them.”

“I have,” Wolverine said. “They ain't human or animal, but a mix of both. Faces and bodies covered in long fur, with fangs and tails and claws'll rip you in half before you can scream.” He looked pointedly at Nightcrawler, who shifted self-consciously under his suspicious gaze.

Magik scooted closer to her brother. “Why don't they ever go inside?”

“No one knows.” Wolverine shrugged and scratched at the dirt absently.

“They can't,” Nightcrawler said, quiet as always. “They're bound to the moon.”

“Interestin' that _you_ know that,” Wolverine said. “Fur, tail, fangs. How're your claws?”

“Stop it,” Shadowcat snapped, and Wolverine huffed out a sigh.

The rest of the group waited for Nightcrawler to tell them more about what he knew.

“What does that mean?” Domino said from her place beside Colossus. His arms were draped over his sister and his wife protectively.

“They cannot go where the moon's light does not reach.”

“An' just _how_ do you know that?” Wolverine said. “You _are_ one of 'em, aren't you?”

“ _No_ , I'm not one of them. I _saw_ them.” He felt Shadowcat's eyes on him and said, “Since you have seen them, you should know that I do not look like them, though we share some similar characteristics.”

Wolverine ignored his answer. “You say you saw 'em, same as me. So how do you _know_ that stuff about 'em, if you ain't one of 'em?”

As annoyed as she was at Wolverine's incessant taunting, she wanted to know the same things. He sighed and began the story. “At one house, we were kept outside, in a shed with only three walls. At night, the creatures would sit outside the shadow cast by the roof, in the light of the moon, and reach for us. We were too far from them so they howled.”

Everyone was silent, imagining the horror of that.

“So that's all we have to do,” Wolverine said, his smile false and patronizing. “We build a shelter with this cloth here, and keep the moon's light out. And we'll all be safe.” He leaned forward a little, a cocky grin on his face. “Ain't that right, 'Crawler?”

Nightcrawler was focused more now on Shadowcat's hand at his side, gripping his tunic, her fingers tucked beneath and grazing his fur when she moved them. He put his hand on her knee.

“I don't know. I suppose it might work,” he said to Wolverine. “But nothing is certain.”

  
  


They passed the time telling more stories and planning how to create a shelter that would keep the moonlight away from them. Now and then someone would peek over or around the rocks to see if guards from the city could be seen. They tried to nap, but it was so bright, most of them couldn't sleep.

At last, Shadowcat declared it was time to move on. They packed up the cloth shades carefully, knowing how precious they were now, even more than before. The light was waning, the sky turning colors in the west.

It seemed they might never draw closer to the hills in the distance, but by the time they stopped, Nightcrawler assured her they were closer. Shadowcat could see nothing in the absolute dark. Then she realized there was no moon at all.

“We may be in luck,” Wolverine said, noting the same thing. “Ain't no moon tonight.”

“Build the shelter anyway,” Shadowcat said, unwilling to take chances.

  
  


They lay together in the center, as close as they could manage, lest the creatures decide they didn't need the moon to light their way after all. Shadowcat took first watch, leaving the darkest part of night to those who could see and hear better than she could. She sat in her place among the group, hands locked around her knees, scanning the dark surrounding them. It was too dark to see much, and all she could hear was the sound of her friends' even breathing as they slept and her own heart beating. She feared she would not see the creatures coming. She imagined all kinds of sounds in the night, jerking her head one way and then the other each time, and jumping in fright if the sound was too close.

Nightcrawler slept beside her, his tail curled loosely around her ankles. Jubilee lay on her other side, with Shogo and Wolverine, who would take the next watch. She thought about how far those two had come, but as usual, her thoughts drifted more and more to Nightcrawler. Skinny, weak, and terrified when she first met him, now he was strong and brave. He no longer shied from her touch, but accepted it, even seemed to enjoy it. She wondered how long he'd gone without any kind of gentle, loving human contact. She set her hand beside his, and his three fingers curled around it.

At last, her turn was over, and she leaned across to wake Wolverine. She uncurled Nightcrawler's tail and stretched out beside him. He put his arm over her and she wondered if he was awake. She fell asleep before she could ask him.

They fell into a pattern of walking in the early morning and late evening. The second night, there was a sliver of moon again, but the watch reported no signs of danger, unless desert lizards and mice counted. By the third night they were starting to run low on food and had not yet reached the base of the hills.

“Another day at least,” Wolverine guessed. “Maybe two.”

“The children are tired,” Colossus said, cradling Magik in his arms. He tipped his head at Honey Badger, who didn't look tired, but whose sister nodded in agreement with wide eyes.

“We all are,” Shadowcat said. “If we can get to the hills, there may be a source of food. We have to keep going.” To stop now was certain death.

That night there was a larger sliver of moon in the sky. Shadowcat couldn't sleep, though she didn't have watch. She was terrified that the creatures would find them, and that Nightcrawler would be wrong about them. Her friends huddled closer than ever under the cloth and every time she tried to lie down, all she could think of was creatures tearing their makeshift awnings apart, and then eating her friends in front of her.

Nightcrawler sat up with her, wishing he could reassure her, but the truth was, he had the same fear. The shed had been made of wood, not cloth, and while they had never tried to destroy it, he didn't know what they would do when confronted by something as thin and fragile as their little awning. Then again, maybe the creatures wouldn't find them at all, this far out from the city.

Shadowcat fell asleep sitting up, hands curled under her chin and her cheek resting on his shoulder. He was lowering her to the ground when he heard the sound behind him.

Snarling.

He didn't have to turn around to see the creature. He remembered.

Across the group, Iceman was recoiling towards the center of the space as another creature began to prowl at that edge. Nightcrawler counted at least four of them. They stalked back and forth along the edges, sometimes trying to reach a claw underneath to catch someone. Someone yelped, and Shadowcat sat up, gasping at the sight of the creatures.

Nightcrawler shushed them, and Iceman's voice was squeaky, “How am I supposed to be quiet?” He jumped as one of the creatures swiped at him.

“Because their vision is not very good, but they can hear perfectly well. The quieter you are, the more likely they will leave us alone,” he whispered. They wouldn't leave them alone, but they might stop reaching. He feared one would actually catch one of their friends with its claws, and that could spell disaster.

Shadowcat watched the creatures pace, shaggy hair and wolf-like teeth on humanoid bodies making them unnerving to look at. They seemed to be watching her, in spite of what Nightcrawler had said about their vision. They clawed at them, groping beneath the awning and shrinking back when they lost contact with the moon's meager light. It seemed to make them angry, and their pacing and snarling increased, turning to howling that eventually woke the rest of the group.

There was no silence anymore, but a hum of whimpering, gasping, and startled surprise as her friends clutched one another and stared out at certain death, or worse. Magik cried in her brother's arms, and the adults circled around her and Honey Badger, keeping the children and baby Shogo in the center. Nightcrawler did not let go of Shadowcat, and her hands were tightly fisted around a section of his tunic.

  
  


When the creatures finally, begrudgingly disappeared into the remains of the night as the sun began to rise, the group collapsed into tears of relief and fear and weariness.

“We can't travel like this,” Iceman said, “We're all exhausted.” The others agreed, adding their voices to the protest.

“I don't want to stay here,” Shadowcat replied to their various objections. “They'll _remember_ , they'll come back.” She felt panicked that they wouldn't listen. “If we stay here, we will run out of food, and the creatures will come back tonight. We will be more exhausted tomorrow.”

“Shadowcat is right,” Nightcrawler said. “We would do best to continue on, though I suspect they will find us no matter where we go.”

Wolverine had been watching him all morning, never bothering to hide his suspicion.

“How the hell do you know so much about these things, and why didn't you tell us any of this before we left?” he finally asked as they began the day's trek.

“I told you. They would come at night to the cages and howl.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you know too much. More than you should. You're hidin' something.”

“How so?”

“How'd you know they wouldn't tear down the awning?”

“I didn—”

“How'd you know they wouldn't reach under it and pull us out?”

“Becau—”

“How'd you know they don't see so well?” His claws popped, and Shadowcat stepped between them.

“Give him a chance to answer you, Wolverine,” she said, and reluctantly he sheathed his claws.

Nightcrawler made a frustrated sound. Shadowcat said, “Go on, you can talk now.” She spoke in that same soft voice he remembered from his first days with her, and he focused on the sound of it, the reassurance that everything would be all right in the end. It didn't matter if it was true.

“What do you know about the High Priests?” he said at last. He didn't want to remember, or think about how he knew these things. He didn't want to relate those stories. Now he had no real choice.

“Hate 'em same as everyone else with half a brain. They rule the city with an iron fist, they make the laws and enforce 'em, and dole out all the major punishments.”

“And what punishment do they typically give?” he said, though he knew the answer. Wolverine snorted in annoyance. Everyone knew the answer.

“Death,” Shadowcat said when Wolverine remained silent.

“Yes,” Nightcrawler said, hooking one finger in hers, “They leave the punished in their sanctorium as a gift to the beings they worship.”

“The night creatures.” Shadowcat knew this, too.

He nodded and tightened his grip around her hand. “They are left as an offering to the creatures. But are you aware that they aren't eaten?”

“What?” Wolverine said.

“The offerings are not eaten. They are...consumed another way. They are changed.” Nightcrawler rubbed his arms and glanced up to find everyone standing around, listening, dreading the end of the story.

“Quit bein' cryptic and tell us,” Wolverine snapped.

“The victims...they're infected with the...the blood of the creatures. They _become_ the creatures.”

Shadowcat's voice was shaky. “The creatures are _people_?”

He nodded. “Were. At least some of them.” He looked at Wolverine, and before he could ask, Nightcrawler said, “I know because one of my... _placements_ was with a High Priest.”

“That's how you know so much,” Wolverine said, grinning, satisfied at last. “Not 'cause you're in league with 'em.”

“That's what you thought?” Shadowcat said, gaping at Wolverine.

He shrugged. “Couldn't think of a better reason.”

“I don't know why they are so far from the city,” Nightcrawler said, ignoring Wolverine now. “I had thought... _hoped_ they would not follow our scent so far into the desert.”

“Thought wrong, bub.”


	9. Risk

They tried to walk quickly even as tired as they were. Each night, the creatures howled around their awning and tried to reach beneath to swipe at them. Each morning, the group tried to rest and continue on, desperate to leave the desert behind and escape the creatures that Nightcrawler was sure were following them. At last they reached the hills, and the sun seemed less oppressive. As they climbed into the foothills, hope grew that the creatures might not follow them here. The higher they went, the cooler the air felt, a relief at first, until it began to get cold. The cooler it became, the less real the creatures seemed, bound as they apparently were to the desert moon.

The cloth awnings became blankets shared by small groups of them, wrapped around them even as they walked. Even those with long pants or leggings were chilled by the time darkness began to fall.

“We need real shelter,” Shadowcat said through chattering teeth. “And real rest, soon. Between the cold and the creatures, we're in trouble.”

Nightcrawler and the others looked each night for a place to stop, but tonight they'd had no luck in their search for a cave or rocky outcropping. Finally at a stand of trees, the group stopped, simply too tired to go on without rest. Some of them gathered sticks and started a small fire for warmth. Shadowcat pulled Nightcrawler aside.

“The fire will draw the creatures, won't it?” She had her hands on her hips, but he could tell she was afraid by the way she chewed her lip. He couldn't stop watching.

“Probably. But they are following us anyway.” The hills had done nothing to deter them.

She continued, “Are the trees shelter enough from the moon's light? They're using the cloth as blankets.”

“The trees will not be enough. We need a structure, some kind of shelter. A cave would be perfect, but I have looked and I do not see any.” In the dark, none of them could see better than Nightcrawler.

“We're going to freeze tonight.” Shadowcat shivered and held her arms.

“Not if we all lie close,” he said, putting his hands on her arms. “It will be a difficult night though, yes.” Traveling so much as a performing mutant slave meant he'd slept in colder places than this.

He put his arms around her and she stepped closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He bent his head a little so that his voice was in her ear. “I will do my best to keep you warm.”

  
  


They strung the awning material among the tree branches, grumbling about giving up the blankets. Then they huddled closer and closer as the night went on and the temperatures dropped. They all had difficulty falling asleep, in spite of their fatigue. And yet, most of them eventually did.

Shadowcat jerked awake to the howling near her head, and Nightcrawler pulling her closer. The creatures had followed them, as he predicted, and sat howling again because they could not reach their meal. It wasn't very late, the moon still up, and she wondered how long they'd have to listen to the creatures tonight.

A new fear joined the existing ones—that they were leading the creatures to their new land. She leaned up to whisper in Nightcrawler's ear, lips barely brushing the short fuzz along the outer shell when she spoke. “Why are they following us?”

He whispered his response, “It is what they do.”

“How do we stop them?”

“Die.” He had his arms around her and she wished they were alone somewhere instead of in the middle of nowhere staring into the faces of death. “Or kill them, though that is difficult to do.”

She tried to cover her ears when one of the creatures started howling close by, burying her face in his neck.

“Could we find a way to cover our tracks?” she said. “So they can't follow us?”

“I don't know. There are many of us, and covering a scent trail is more difficult than footprints.”

“How do you know so much?” she said, lifting her head, eyes immediately drawn to the creatures still pacing and howling intermittently.

The others had woken with the howling, too, and Shadowcat began to realize that even if the creatures didn't kill them outright, eventually they would wear the group down from fatigue and lack of food. They were still going to die.

“We should go back,” she whispered in a ragged voice, and Nightcrawler pulled back to stare at her. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hands were twisted in the front of his tunic. “We've brought them to a new land, they'll kill here now.” She closed her eyes and her forehead dropped to his shoulder. “What have I done?”

The strong, sensible, kind woman who had saved his life and helped rehabilitate him, who had bathed him tenderly when he was frightened and spoon fed him soup when he was weak was now trembling in his arms. She had saved him, from death and loneliness, and now he wanted to save her.

He tried to remember everything he could from his time with the High Priest. Many times he and the other slaves, when not performing, were made to clean the sanctorium, especially after an offering had been made. They were not allowed to bring silver or other precious metals into the worship space, and no weapons were ever permitted. The High Priests talked about the Dhiba1, the queen of the night creatures, who was never seen but Nightcrawler didn't remember anything else about her. The creatures _could_ be killed, but it was difficult and involved great personal risk. If bitten or exposed to their blood, and not killed outright, the victim would become one of the creatures. But now, Nightcrawler wondered if there might be another way...

An idea began to form in his mind as he watched the prowling, howling beasts. He wanted rest before he attempted it, though, and he wanted to talk to Shadowcat privately, so for this night, he would comfort his friends if he could, and plot and rest in the morning.

  
  


“I need to speak with you before we move on,” Nightcrawler said to Shadowcat when she woke from her morning nap. The whole group was worn out from the previous nights' events. As soon as the creatures left, they had collapsed in a heap together, cold and tired.

They walked away from the group, past the small stand of trees where they'd spent the night, towards a sunny patch of flowers. Nightcrawler got straight to the point. “I have an idea about ridding ourselves of the creatures. But it is dangerous and I don't know if it will work.”

He wanted to fight them.

“We'll be killed. Nothing kills them,” she said, her body taut with fear as he described his plan.

“That isn't true. It is difficult but it can be done.” He steadied his voice and paced a little, as he told her what he remembered. “The sanctorium has no roof, they can go inside easily. We were always to keep it clear and clean. I think it is possible that if they enter a building where the moon cannot reach, they will die.”

“You think?” She scowled. “You _think_? You want to risk our lives because you _think_?”

“Every day we are risking our lives. This entire trip is a risk.”

She closed her mouth and pursed her lips. “I didn't make the decision alone,” she said, her words clipped.

“No, we all did. But it is still a risk. This is simply another one.”

“But...we'll _die_.”

“We might not.”

“You'll die! No one lives who encounters those things!”

“I did.”

“Yes, but...to fight them? They will tear you apart.”

He walked back to her, and was surprised to see the distress in her face and the way her hands were clenched at her waist. He realized that she was talking about him, specifically, and not the group any longer. Her fear was for him.

“Please don't do this,” she said.

He stopped in front of her and her voice was a whisper, pleading. “ _Please_.”

He lifted one hand tentatively to her cheek, unsure if she would allow such familiarity, but when he touched her face, she closed her eyes.

“There is no other way that I can think of. But, My Shadowcat, you forget I will not be fighting them alone. We will all fight them, together.”

“We'll _all_ die,” she said, opening her eyes, and holding his hand against her cheek.

“We might. But there is always risk in doing something worthwhile.”

He raised his other hand and cupped her cheeks. Risk. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, and she made a sound like “oh” and kissed him back. He didn't dare more than pressing his mouth lightly to hers, but she was soft and parting her lips around his. For a moment, the world narrowed to the two of them, her fingers creeping slowly up his neck, his body inching closer, until finally he drew back from her with a contented sigh.

He was right about risk, she thought, as he leaned his forehead against hers. She'd taken a risk when she rescued him. She had taken risks every day since she'd been freed. Every mutant she brought back with her was a risk. Every trek into the city was a risk. Opening her heart up to an emotion as dangerous as love was a risk. Too late, though. That risk was already taken.

“How do we kill them?” she asked.

  
  


They had to press on. Staying in one place was a death sentence with their food supply down to almost nothing. The hills continued to rise, the temperatures continued to fall, and with them her spirits. Shadowcat was convinced, in spite of Nightcrawler's reassurances, that she'd made a terrible mistake. What had she done but lead them all into a wilderness, not knowing if there were any towns or shelter or food to be found?

They discovered a stream around midday, and took advantage of the cold, crisp water. With renewed energy and hope, they followed it. Many towns were built on or near streams and rivers. Perhaps they would find one now. Nightcrawler began to outline his plan to the group as they walked.

“They will never cease to follow us,” he said, first painting the picture of their lives in the new free land, still hunted, endangering their new human neighbors, who would likely grow to hate them as their previous ones had. “Our only chance is to kill them.”

“You really think they can be killed?” Wolverine said.

“They can. It is difficult because the likelihood of being killed first is very high.”

“I remember hearing stories about someone killing one,” Domino said. “They cut off its head.”

“I remember that story, too,” Iceman said. “The High Priests had the guy executed.”

“Shadowcat and I have swords. Do we have any other weapons?” Nightcrawler asked.

They didn't. Weapons were very hard to come by, and the only reason she had a sword was because she'd stolen in from the man who freed her. He hadn't dared stop her, having learned a lesson about equipping slaves with weapons. Nightcrawler had taken one from one of the dead guards the night they were ambushed outside the gates.

Colossus spoke up, “In metal form, I am nearly invulnerable. And very strong.”

Nightcrawler nodded and rubbed his chin in thought.

“He is strong enough to tear a living creature in half,” Shadowcat added, “Though he does not like to do harm to any living thing.”

One by one they explored each talent and skillset, determining who would best stand a chance against the creatures in the moonlight, and who should remain under the awnings and try to lure them under in the hopes of killing them that way. If that worked at all.

By the time they stopped for the evening to make preparations for the fight, every available scrap of clothing and cloth was being used for warmth. The stream they'd been following was gradually growing wider and deeper, and there were more and more trees and vegetation. That meant sources of food. Survival might be possible once the creatures were dealt with, if they could find better shelter, and if the weather didn't kill them.

Once more, they settled in for the evening. Shadowcat, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Wolverine, and Kinney would fight the creatures. Iceman built them a sturdier shelter of ice, and they draped the cloth over it, not wanting to take any chance that the moonlight might filter through. They shivered beneath it, the sides left open for now so they could see the creatures coming.

The creatures arrived as soon as the first rays of moonlight appeared above. Howling, and screeching mad with hunger and a thirst for blood, they came tearing out of the night itself, halting in rage outside the ice shelter. Each of the fighters waited for the opportunity to attack. The first step was to drag one out of the moonlight and see what happened. This was a great risk, and to do it, they had built a second shelter nearby, one that would remain empty. Only Colossus, with his metal skin, sat inside, waiting for one of the creatures to come close enough that he could grab it. They seemed to sense the plan and kept well out of his reach.

Faced with the creatures now, the plan seemed like folly, and Shadowcat silently bid her friends good-bye, hoping that whatever the next life might be, she would meet them again.

1A word I made up after attempting to translate wolf into Egyptian, failing, and giving up.


	10. Realization

Ideally, Colossus would lure them close, drag them out of the moonlight, and kill them that way, without bloodshed. Severing their heads meant exposing all of them to their blood, and increasing their risk of becoming one of the creatures. That plan, however, was based on a guess, an assumption that they were connected to the moonlight in some magical, mystical way.

Because the creatures would not get close enough for Colossus to grab them, a physical fight became necessary. The rest of them flew out of the shelter when the creatures were distracted by Colossus, and in the first second, discovered that cutting off their heads was not as easy as they expected. Their bones seemed harder than human bones, their skin thicker and tougher, and they were wickedly fast and agile. This was why killing them was so difficult. Intangibility saved her from the first retaliatory strike. After that, everything was chaos.

The others screeched and leaped at them. Wolverine's claws tore through the guts of one of the creatures, but that was not enough to stop it from attacking. He dodged its claws, barely rolling away in time.

“The head!” Nightcrawler screamed as he attacked one of the creatures, hacking into its shoulder with a missed blow.

Wolverine spun as the creature lashed out again, slicing its head off just before it sank its claws into his arm. The first creature was down, and this seemed to enrage the others even more. Their attacks became more frenzied, random, and unpredictable.

Colossus wrestled with one, its arms held out from its body as it snapped and gnashed at his face, barely missing it with each bite. Finally he rolled close enough to the second shelter and threw the creature at it. It skidded across the ground with the force of his throw, frantically digging its claws into the earth to stop it.

He hadn't been close enough. The creature attacked again, lunging at Colossus, still on the ground.

Kinney was dancing around another creature, trying to get a clean shot at its head, but unable to reach. She leaped over it and flipped off its back, turning to swipe with a foot claw. Meanwhile, more creatures had begun to join the fight.

“Where are they coming from?” Shadowcat cried, as more appeared seemingly out of the night itself. She swung her sword again and again, sometimes taking off a head. The weapon was so bloody that if she sustained a cut of any depth she would almost certainly become infected with the creatures' blood as it poured down the blade and handle. Her arms shook with the effort of wielding the sword, but she refused to quit.

At last, Colossus managed to heave a creature under the structure, where no moonlight reached. When it screamed, the other creatures stopped attacking long enough to watch their mate shrivel up, its shaggy fur almost dripping off its body like wax, its features taking on a more human form. When the transformation was complete, a stranger blinked human eyes at them and gasped, “Thank you,” before dying.

Shadowcat's arms shook and she could hear someone behind her gagging. Nightcrawler sliced the man's neck from his body as the creatures lunged at them again.

“What the hell'd you do that for?” Wolverine snarled as he renewed his attack.

“Taking no chances,” Nightcrawler replied.

They were weakening, all of them. Every creature they managed to kill seemed to bring another from the darkness, or perhaps the light of the moon itself. Shadowcat could feel her arms weakening from the effort of fighting, and she knew it would all be over soon. They had done their best and failed.

She tripped and went down hard, willing herself to become intangible. Someone grabbed her and hauled her out of reach of the creature that leaped at her.

“My turn,” Domino said, taking Shadowcat's sword from weak fingers.

“No!” Shadowcat called, but too late, Domino had leaped into the fight.

Iceman lit up with an idea, and iced the ground around the second structure, then built up a solid wall on the far side. Other members of the group ran out, taunting the creatures and distracting them.

“Start shoving, Colossus!” Iceman yelled.

He and Wolverine saw the strip of ice at the same time. Colossus grabbed a creature and hurled it, and Shadowcat watched in awe as Iceman's plan worked. The creature slammed into the wall and, trapped there, turned human and died. She scanned the fight for Nightcrawler, who must also be tired, and found him at last, leaping from tree to tree, just out of reach of the creatures. He dropped beside Colossus, and when the creature followed, the two of them shoved it down the ice path.

The tide was turning. Honey Badger squealed and ran into the chaos, singing some little song to herself as she went. The creatures saw her as an easy target, but when one of them grabbed her, she spun easily out of its grip and dug a claw into its spine. The creature collapsed.

“The spine!” Shadowcat yelled.

The creatures had stopped multiplying at last. They were down to the last few. Nightcrawler lunged at one, missed horribly, and would have been ripped in half if Wolverine hadn't kicked him aside and thrust his claws into the creature's neck. Colossus threw the creature down the ice slide, then tossed Nightcrawler under the ice structure with Shadowcat.

When the last of the creatures was beheaded, including the ones that died from lack of moonlight, the group struggled to the stream to wash in the frigid water, then collapsed together as Iceman sealed up the walls.

  
  


They slept until their bellies woke them, rumbling with hunger. The ice structure had kept the warmth inside, and even in their clothes, damp from washing in the river and stained in blood, they were warm. Shadowcat stretched and leaned down to press a light kiss to Nightcrawler's cheek. She allowed herself to feel happy for a moment, before delving into the worries that threatened to fill up the space in her mind.

She sat up and he curved his arm around her waist, coiling himself around her. They were so close to something she dared call freedom, so close to happiness. She smiled and touched his shoulder, letting herself dream of the days ahead. He rolled up and kissed her cheek, then briefly her lips.

“Oh, My Nightcrawler,” she said in a whisper, kissed his cheek again and sat back, smiling. “We did it.”

He drank in her face, her smile, the way she looked at him.

“Yes,” he said, “We defeated the creatures that attacked us.”

Her smile faded. “You know something.” She'd held her worries at bay, but now they fell into place, listing themselves conveniently and ruining the happy, warm feeling she'd given in to.

Would more creatures come after them?

Would Dhiba come for this land now, too?

Had any of her friends become infected by the creatures' blood?

And she thought of the mutants they had left behind in the old city, still slaves, still haunted by the night creatures. Guilt filled her heart.

“Let's go outside,” he said instead of answering her. They crawled out of the structure, carefully avoiding their still-sleeping friends. Some of them were up already, drinking from the stream and staying well away from the remains of the creatures. They were decomposing rapidly, shriveling up in the sun.

“What are they?” she said, not expecting an answer.

Nightcrawler stood beside the slowly melting structure under which the creatures had become human and died. Their remains were decomposing normally. He shrugged.

“I don't know. Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

She followed him up the stream a little way from the group. If not for the ominous tone in his words, she would have felt light, even happy. The hills around them were green with vegetation, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, the creatures were dead. They were on their way to freedom. She should not be full of dread.

“We have to check everyone for injuries,” he said, and held out his arm. Several gashes, obviously claw marks, ran around his forearm. She stared at them, realization dawning slowly. She shook her head and stepped back. Adrenaline filled her veins and her heart beat against her ribs, loud in her ears. She shivered with a cold that emanated from her bones.

“No.”

“Yes.” His eyes stung and he wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing to say. “There is little over a week until the next full moon. That is all we have left.”

Shadowcat continued to stare at his arm, trying to make herself understand what was happening. “What?”

“The change is triggered at the first full moon—”

She covered her mouth as a sob escaped, and another. They'd come so far, they were so close. In an instant, her shock became anger. “I _told_ you this would happen! I told you not to do it, not to fight them!”

“Yes, you did,” he said quietly. He did not try to reason with her, or tell her it was necessary, or that she had fought, too, and it could easily have been her.

She took several heaving breaths, groaned out a last sob, and stood up, wiping her eyes furiously. “You didn't listen to me. Now you'll die and I'll be alone again,” she said. “I need a minute.” She turned and walked away.


	11. Remorse

Shadowcat stormed back to the camp, leaving Nightcrawler alone by the stream. “Get up,” she shouted. “All of you, get up now.”

Groggily more of them emerged from the structure and gathered around. Most seemed to assume there was a celebration in order, until they saw her face. Wolverine glared at Nightcrawler, slowly approaching from up the stream.

“Those who fought last night, you are brave and strong and you did well. How many have injuries? I need to see them, now.” They seemed to move in slow motion, not fast enough for her impatience. “I will strip every one of you down if necessary.”

Domino's hand went up, and Iceman's.

“Let me see,” she demanded. Domino had cuts on her leg and side. Iceman had no marks. “What is your injury?” she said.

“I tripped and fell. My knee hurts,” he said.

“Others? Anything else? Tell me now, or so help me—”

“You wanna tone it down, Cat?” Wolverine snarled. “Ain't their fault they got hurt.”

She started to snap at him, but he was right. Her hands shook and she clenched them into fists, turning her anger on herself, on her own weakness and inability to protect them all. “No, it isn't.”

“Pretty sure they got me a few times, but the healin' factor took care of it,” Wolverine said.

Kinney and Honey Badger both nodded. “Us, too.” Wolverine looked at them curiously before turning his attention back to Shadowcat. Nightcrawler stood with Domino now, waiting for Shadowcat's word.

“Anyone who got cut...or bitten...you're...” She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced out the words. “You're going to become one of them.”

She expected crying and hysterics, but she was met with total silence.

Honey Badger hopped up and down. “What are you going to do with them? Do we have to chop their heads off?”

“No! No, I hope not.” Shadowcat blinked back tears and stood straighter.

“There may be a cure,” Nightcrawler said. “I don't know but...”

Colossus pulled Domino into his arms and wept openly. Nightcrawler could hear him whispering to her, “I just got you back...”

Shadowcat paced, chewing her lip so hard Nightcrawler worried she'd cut herself. Suddenly she stopped and turned to all of them. “I'm going back,” she said. “I'm going to kill Dhiba.”

“Like _hell_ ,” Wolverine said, and laughed.

“She'll kill you,” Iceman said.

“I have to try. And Domino and...and Nightcrawler and you three should come with me. If we can't cure you then at least you'll be where the other creatures are. You won't be in the new land.” Shadowcat refused to meet any of the eyes that watched her. “The rest of you will continue on. Colossus, you will lead the way.”

“No,” he said.

“Yes, you _will_. You _have_ to.”

“My wife—”

“Will be with me, and if I can save her I will. We won't know until the first full moon, which is in a week, maybe a week and a day. Not long. Certainly not long enough to waste time arguing with you.”

Nightcrawler spoke up again. “Dhiba will kill you, My Shadowcat. You know that. And killing her will not save us.”

She whirled on him. “ _You_ _don't know that_. And I have to try—I can't let this happen, I _can't_!”

Wolverine knew Shadowcat's disposition better than almost anyone else. She wasn't going to back down. “All right, I'll go with you.”

She agreed to give them until midday before leaving, but she hated the waiting. She wandered alone up and down the stream instead, wondering where it came from and where it ended. She wondered if there was a city somewhere, and if the others would make it. She didn't expect to see it herself. Shadowcat was stubborn and determined, but she wasn't stupid. Dhiba would kill her. She only hoped to kill her first.

  
  


They ate before they left, taking minimal food and water. She intended to move fast, traveling through the night until they had to sleep. It had taken days to get this far, and Shadowcat meant to make it back in half the time. They stopped only long enough to rest and eat whatever Wolverine caught. No night creatures bothered them.

Shadowcat could hardly sleep. She slept in spurts, kept long watches through the night, and marched at a grueling pace during the day. She noticed that Domino and Nightcrawler both grew more and more restless at night as the moon grew closer to full.

They were hungry when the city came into view again, and Shadowcat slipped into their old hideout. The trapdoor was loose and the cave had been ransacked. They'd have been found if they'd stayed. They spent the night there anyway. In the sky, the fat gibbous moon shone brightly, taunting her with its power.

In the morning they would go into the city and attack the sanctorium of Dhiba. Shadowcat intended to defile it and burn it to the ground to draw her out the following night. The last night before the full moon.

  
  


She knew she should sleep, but watching Nightcrawler shake all night, fists clenching and unclenching, his whole body jerking. Domino was in a similar state, and it made Shadowcat restless and uneasy. In the middle of the night Nightcrawler woke, shaking uncontrollably.

“P-please,” he began, and she stopped him, moving across the space between them.

“I am not angry,” she said, “Not at you.” She opened her arms and he crawled into them, curling into a ball in a way he had not done in months. She stroked his arms as gently as she had the first nights he had stayed in this cave with her. “I'm angry because I had happiness and it was taken from me, the same as always.”

“I want you to know m-my name,” he said, teeth chattering from his whole body shaking. No matter how tightly she held him, he could not stop.

Her eyes stung and she willed herself not to cry, but the tears came anyway, dropping into his unruly hair, soaking the scarf he wore to keep the sweat out of his eyes. “And I will tell you mine.”

“It's German,” he said. “I was b-born there. Kurt Wagner.”

“Katherine Pryde,” she said, choking back her tears. “It has been my greatest pleasure to know you, Kurt. My Nightcrawler.”

They sat in silence, both crying, until it grew late enough that the shaking stopped and he fell into a fitful sleep.

  
  


“We take weapons from the guards if we can. Anything. I want to make a big mess and ruin their day,” Shadowcat said before the little group departed the cave in the morning. She had her sword, and Nightcrawler had his, though she honestly wondered when the time might come to take it from him if he would give it up.

“We're sure about the moon tonight?” Wolverine asked, glancing up, though it was broad daylight.

Nightcrawler and Domino both nodded. Already they could feel the pull, but it was not yet time. One more night. She didn't know if she could bring herself to kill him, either, but Wolverine would do it if she couldn't. She'd already talked to him about it privately, and she thought Nightcrawler probably suspected.

They strode into the city and went straight to the sanctorium. Weapons were prohibited, but Shadowcat made no effort to hide her sword as she and the others took the steps two at a time. Guards blocked them at the top.

“No admittance,” they said. “Slaves are not allowed in the sanctorium. Unless they're offerings.” They laughed until Shadowcat drew her sword.

“We're not slaves,” she said, “Let us in or die.”

The guards drew their swords and fell immediately to Shadowcat and Nightcrawler's blades. More guards rushed out, starting a real brawl, but it was over before it began. Wolverine, Kinney, and Honey Badger took them out before Shadowcat and Nightcrawler had finished parrying the first thrusts.

Stepping over the bodies of the guards, they made their way into the interior of the building. As Nightcrawler had described, the roof was open and during the day the place was lit with bright sunlight. A table in the center was flanked by chains set into the stone floor to hold the human offerings to Dhiba and her creatures. The entire thing was stone, but the table could be destroyed. Shadowcat shoved it over while Domino and Nightcrawler stared at the walls.

“Look at the images,” Domino called.

“These were not here before,” Nightcrawler said, stepping over a dead guard to take a closer look. “They must have been added after the High Priest tired of me.”

Shadowcat joined them. The mural showed a woman, or rather a woman who was half wolf, with a crown on her head being worshiped by other wolf-like humans. The night creatures. It was a painting of Dhiba herself. Each painting depicted Dhiba leading her night creatures under the moon, or eating, or being worshiped. On the back wall was a written panel, telling the old legend of how Dhiba came to be.

Said to have been bitten by a wild dog as a girl, she mutated into a wolf-like woman who lived on moonlight and the flesh of living creatures. Any she left behind became like her, and followed her. She became their queen. Over time, she grew an army of night creatures, permanent residents of the moonlight.

Nightcrawler climbed the wall and peered into the yard of the High Priest's home. Guards poured out and headed towards the sanctorium.

“Unless you want to fight again, it's time to go,” he called, landing on his feet when he jumped down to them.

“I enjoy fighting them but I want to save my energy for Dhiba. We've gotten her attention.” Shadowcat phased them out of the sanctorium through the back wall, and they ran through some back alleys before circling back around to wait for nightfall.

They wandered the nearby side streets and alleys, and whenever they encountered a mutant, they told them about their quest to cross the hills and find the free land. Most seemed interested, but too disheartened to do more than nod and smile. Shadowcat hoped the word might spread, that more might take the risk to leave this city and seek freedom. She hoped her friends would find it.

At last the sun began to set, and the streets became less and less crowded. By the time darkness fell, the group had made their way back to the sanctorium, where they could see the dead guards had been left as offerings for Dhiba. The High Priests were truly ruthless and cold-hearted, Shadowcat thought. Even their own people were left for the night creatures. She wondered if the High Priests believed the offerings would keep them safe.

From the steps of the sanctorium, she watched the moon begin its dreadful path, rising huge and white and so nearly full as to make them question their certainty. Only the fact that Domino and Nightcrawler remained human convinced them it was not yet full. They both began to shake and tremble as the moon rose higher, and then from the darkest shadows, figures began to emerge. Shadowcat stood up and drew her sword.

“Where is your master, your queen?” she shouted at the night creatures. “Is she afraid to show her face to one so lowly as me?”

“No, I am not,” said a voice behind them, and Shadowcat whirled to face the most hideous of all the creatures she'd seen yet. Huge and snarling, long teeth stained with the blood of countless victims, she loomed over their heads clicking her claws together. “You have defiled my sanctorium and brought weapons into it. You have killed my children.”

“And I mean to kill you, too,” Shadowcat said and lunged.

Everything was in uproar then, as night creatures attacked by the dozens. Domino and Nightcrawler fought with abandon. Already infected, they had no reason to hold back. Shadowcat's intangibility saved her from numerous strikes that should have killed her, while Wolverine, Kinney, and Honey Badger worried less about being mauled as they severed neck after neck until the floor was slick with the creatures' blood.

“How many more will you have us kill?” Shadowcat taunted Dhiba as they fought.

Dhiba backed off abruptly and the remaining night creatures sat back on their haunches to wait. The group watched them warily, panting.

“You have a point,” Dhiba said, “You are fine warriors. It is a shame you fight so hard to remain human.” Dhiba eyed Domino and Nightcrawler and grinned a slick, wicked grin. “These two, however, are almost mine.”

“Never,” Nightcrawler said. “I would rather die than become like you.”

“A shame you have no choice,” Dhiba said, and, lifting her chin, she howled. Nightcrawler and Domino fell to the ground, swords clattering away as they clutched their stomachs and doubled over on the ground.

Shadowcat watched in horror as they began to transform before the moon was truly full. Dhiba laughed gleefully. “The moon is always full, you silly girl, you just don't see it. It is but a small matter for me to initiate the transformation.”

Wolverine growled and lunged at the night creatures still sitting obediently, taking out two at once. The others sprang up and the fight began anew. Dhiba seemed to enjoy Shadowcat's distress as she watched her friends writhing in agony as they changed into creatures of the night. But Shadowcat was not a silly girl. She swung her sword out in an arc so fast, Dhiba would have died right then, had she been human. Her laughter filled the sanctorium as she pointed to Shadowcat's friends.

Domino and Nightcrawler sat up and stared at her, their faces no longer human, their bodies covered in thick fur. Night creatures.


	12. Return

Shadowcat lifted her sword as Domino and Nightcrawler advanced on her. She backed away as they crawled, like beasts, towards her. They were unrecognizable, no different from the other night creatures. There was nothing about them to mark them as her former friends and family. One leaped, and she kicked it away. Kinney leaped at the other one, rolling away with it while Shadowcat focused on the others.

Dhiba continued to laugh as more of her night creatures poured into the sanctorium. Shadowcat rolled across the room and grabbed Nightcrawler's discarded sword. Rage and grief filled her with pain, and that pain gave her strength. The world seemed to move in slow motion as she began swinging, circling the creatures and killing one after the other. Her swords arced, both flashing in the moonlight as she channeled her anger into her attack. The creatures leaped and fell, and slowly the smile began to leave Dhiba's face. Shadowcat rolled between two creatures and rose beside Dhiba, swinging her blade.

The queen of the night creatures fell beside her soldiers.

The creatures continued their attack, relentless in spite of the loss of their queen. Shadowcat felt numb and empty and defeated, but she could not stop as long as the creatures attacked. She had to protect her family. How old was Honey Badger? Was she even out of her child years?

Wolverine roared as he shoved off a group that had leaped onto his back. Kinney and Honey Badger fought back-to-back, keeping some of the creatures at bay.

“We can't keep this up,” Wolverine insisted. She ignored him. Another creature leaped at her. She spun, kicked out, and sent it reeling back. On her left, another attacked and met her sword.

“Perhaps _we_ can help,” said a voice from the darkness. Colossus and Iceman stepped out of the dark alley, followed by the rest of the group. Colossus grabbed two creatures and hurled them across the room, where they smashed into the wall and fell, dazed, before leaping up and running back.

“Seal the roof, Iceman,” Shadowcat said as she jabbed at another creature.

All around them, creatures howled and attacked, and her friends fought back. The creatures had stopped multiplying, but the floor was so littered with their dead bodies, that her friends were falling and tripping. Most likely, all of them would be infected by the end of the battle. Shadowcat let her swords drop briefly to her sides. She could not pick out which creature was Nightcrawler. He would die like the rest. He could be dead already.

Iceman finished the roof, but it had done no good. The moonlight still filtered through the ice, much like sun through water. The ice was still too transparent and the roof was too large to cover with their cloths as they'd done on the hill. Discouragement surged through her as she ducked, then swung at another creature.

As she fought, it began to grow darker in the sanctorium, and Shadowcat looked up in confusion. Something was covering the ice above them.

“What?” Shadowcat muttered to herself.

Magik, who held a discarded sword in her hands, fending off the creatures in a way no child should have been capable of doing, said calmly, “Phoenix is covering the roof with sand.”

Shadowcat began to smile. Maybe they could still beat the creatures. They might all die, but they could end the city's fear of the night. The creatures raced towards the wide opening of the sanctorium, and Shadowcat bolted after them.

“Keep them here!” she yelled. “Don't let them out.”

The weary group held their ground as Phoenix sprayed sand over the roof. Gradually, the creatures stopped attacking, and lay rolling and twitching on the ground, as their bodies began to melt back into human form, dying once they returned to their fully human state. Most had sustained wounds that would have killed them long ago, had they been human. Shadowcat dropped her arms to her sides, not relinquishing the swords she held.

It was over at last. At the wall, Colossus cried over Domino's body. She and Nightcrawler were dead, but so were the night creatures and so was Dhiba. Perhaps now that her hold over the city's High Priests was gone, the mutant slaves would become bolder and braver and find a way to get free.

Shadowcat sank to her knees on the steps. Robotically she checked herself for injuries, but her eyes wouldn't focus. Everything was blurry and she realized she was crying, too.

“This one ain't dead,” Wolverine called to her, but she couldn't hear him over her own choked sobs. Honey Badger ran over, bouncing up and down and tapping Shadowcat on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey, one isn't dead. Some guy.”

“Not dead?” Shadowcat repeated, frowning. She stood and looked where Honey Badger pointed. Wolverine stood beside a stranger, a man slowly getting to his feet and looking around him with wild, terrified eyes. Wolverine put his hands on the man's shoulders and made him sit, as Shadowcat approached to see the truth more clearly.

“Not dead?” she repeated.

Honey Badger was bounding around the space now, pointing out various not dead people.

“Oh, Domino's alive!” she cried.

Domino was alive? Shadowcat spun on her heel, wide-eyed, and saw them, Domino's human arms locked around Colossus's neck.

Wolverine was talking, but Shadowcat barely heard him, staring, numb and caught between so many conflicting emotions she could not seem to make sense of anything.

“These ones aren't dead either!” called Honey Badger from the corner. “Should we cut their heads off?”

“No!” Kinney called to her sister. “If they aren't dead, they're cured.” More humans sat up around the sanctorium, any whose wounds were not deadly seemed to have survived.

“If we had known...” Shadowcat said quietly. “We could have saved more of them.”

Wolverine took her arms in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Listen to me. Do you know what you did here? Do you have any idea?”

She felt tears slip from her eyes. “Killed so many innocents...”

“Yes, but you freed 'em. They were slaves as much as any mutants are. An' now, if we find any more, or if any of us turn into one, we know how to cure 'em. You an' us, we've saved maybe thousands of people.”

“It doesn't feel good.” She phased out of his grip and went back to the steps, torn between grief and pain and deciding if she agreed with anything Wolverine had said. She was glad most of her friends were safe. She was glad the cure had been discovered. But she couldn't be completely happy. She started down the steps to sit alone in the ugly moonlight and wait for the celebrating to end so she could get back to leading them out of this forsaken city.

“You might want to come back in here,” Wolverine said from the top of the stairs. “We got another live one. And I think he's lookin' for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she whirled. Behind him she saw movement, and Iceman was helping a very shadowy, nearly invisible figure to the entryway. She couldn't see him until he stepped into the moonlight, but it was him, it was Nightcrawler, injured but alive.

She ran up the steps and stopped in front of him, willing her brain to understand. Her throat was tight and her heart slammed in her chest.

“Looks like he took a good blow to the head and got knocked out,” Iceman said.

Shadowcat barely heard him. “Nightcrawler?”

“Yes,” he said, cradling his arm against his stomach.

She couldn't stop crying. All she could think to say was, “Where are you hurt?”

“I believe I have a broken arm,” he said, “and I could use a nap, but otherwise, I'm all right. Are you?”

Slowly her senses began to return and she nodded, reaching out to touch his arm, his face, cradling it in her hands and wiping dirt away. “You didn't die,” she said.

“Neither did you.” He stepped forward into her arms and pressed his cheek into her hair with a long sigh.

She held him a long time, until she realized with a start that they were all still standing in the sanctorium. Before long the guards of the High Priests would figure out what had happened and come to investigate. The group was exhausted and another fight might not go well for them.

“I think it's time to leave,” she said, arms still around his waist.

They gathered up their swords, and walked down the street, no longer afraid of the night creatures, if any remained. No one stopped them at the gates, and Shadowcat didn't look back as they headed towards their old hideout for some much needed rest.

She wondered if their old tub was still in the cave.


	13. Revelry

There was almost nothing left in their old hideout. The pallets had gone with them on their journey, and anything left behind had been destroyed by the guards when they searched it. Colossus's group had left everything in the hills but the essentials, in holes they'd dug for safe keeping, he told her. She wanted to chastise him and scold him for not listening to her, but his decision had saved them. She could do nothing but be grateful to him.

He sat leaning against the wall, his arms around Domino and Magik, hugging them tight and kissing their heads affectionately. The fire had been made up, and they all sat around it, trying to relax from the night's shocking turn of events. The rest of the group stretched out close by.

“I can't remember anything,” Nightcrawler said, when Honey Badger asked him and Domino what it was like being one of the night creatures. “Pain, and then waking up with fresh pain.” He gestured to his arm, newly splinted, but he was smiling. He was alive, and Shadowcat was here, and he was going to kiss her again as soon as he had the opportunity.

“Do you think you killed all the night creatures?” Jubilee asked, rocking Shogo back to sleep. She'd stayed in the cave out of necessity, but had insisted on coming at least that far with the group.

“I don't know,” Shadowcat said, sorrow filling her again. “I wish I had known how to cure them. So many are dead who did not have to be.”

The group sat in silence for a while, thinking of the ones who had died, and wishing them better lives in the hereafter.

“What do we do now?” Domino asked, breaking the tension.

Shadowcat lifted her face again. “We'll go back into the hills, find the supplies Colossus hid, and keep going. We'll still try to find the free city.”

“You think the mutants in Egypterra will figure out how to get there?”

“We told as many as we saw,” she said. “We can only hope.”

  
  


In the morning, they started out once again for the land they hoped to find in the hills, a city with freedom and opportunity, where they would not be enslaved. They kept watch at night but nothing bothered them. They felt a collective sense of relief, as if their lives were already freer, though the guards from their old city could still choose to come after them. Shadowcat didn't think they would, not once they saw the remains of the creatures in the sanctorium.

The world felt new and full of hope and dreams that no longer seemed impossible.

Days later, after passing the place where Colossus had buried their supplies, and continuing up the stream, they reached the top of a ridge and looked down into a valley at a sprawling city.

“Do you think it's real?” Jubilee asked of no one in particular.

“There is only one way to find out,” Shadowcat said. “We'll have to go there.”

“What will we do if it's a free city?” Honey Badger asked.

“We'll find jobs,” Colossus said. “And do honest work and have families and a home.”

Shadowcat looked at her friends, gathered around, some linked arm in arm. At her side, Nightcrawler had his arm on her shoulder. “Let's go down and see our new home,” she said.

And they started down the hill together.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why Wolverine is being such a jerk in this story, but he kept doing it no matter how I tried to write him as Not a Jerk. So, jerk he is.


End file.
